


Imperfect Souls

by Lorybear



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Bodyguard Sandor Clegane, Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Game of Thrones Fix-It, Game of Thrones References, Game of Thrones-esque, Love, Oral Sex, Other, Romance, Sandor - Freeform, Sex, Sexy, Slow Burn, Smut, Virgin Sandor Clegane, clegane - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-10-13 05:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20577548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorybear/pseuds/Lorybear
Summary: Kalira Blackwood is the eldest child and daughter of Tytos Blackwood, Lord of Raventree. She meets Sandor Clegane while he's serving her brother, Silas Blackwood, as his sworn shield.Kalira finds a kindred soul in Sandor Clegane, as people treat her poorly and with fear due to her own dark past...Will Sandor feel the same way, or will this beautiful girl with an ugly secret be too much for even the fearsome hound to handle?This is a Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character Fanfic based on the Game of Thrones TV show, with references to the books in some aspects. Westerosi AU.**WILL CONTAIN EROTICA/NSFW**This story takes place around the end of season 3 in a canon divergence Sandor Clegane delivers Arya to Riverrun instead of the Twins. Sandor continues on his journey alone, only to find himself serving more lords and ladies yet again.





	1. Chapter 1

** **

**Basic**(but important)** Information**

This is** SandorxOriginal Female Character** story with a Westerosi AU. It's mostly **show canon**, but for accuracy I've definitely looked into some book details to make the story feel more complete. In this slightly different universe, Sandor delivered Arya to her mothers family at Riverrun instead of to the Twins on the night of the Red Wedding. Sandor continues along, traveling alone, which is where this story picks up. 

Since the story is show canon, we're obviously using the show-version of Sandor Clegane for this story. I imagine him to look more like he did around season 1-2 to age him down a bit, and since they never specify his age in the show (obviously he's much younger in the books) we're going to call him 36. In addition to that, I'm also going with the implied show canon idea of Sandor Clegane as being a virgin. (In the books he whores, but in the show he never once is seen with a woman, and even goes so far as to chide Tyrion about whores saying that it's "Not hunting if you pay for it".) I realize some people may not like this, but I feel like it's accurate to show canon based on the lack of female interaction Sandor is ever seen having and his visible discomfort around women/naked women in the show.

The "Blackwood" House in this story holds many of the same characteristics of the Blackwood house in the books. They reside at Raventree Hall, and are sworn to House Tully. Lord Tytos Blackwood has 7 children in the books, but for the sake of this story we are only going to be focusing on two children that I've created for him, Silas and Kalira Blackwood, although their other siblings may be mentioned they are not that important to this story. Silas is the eldest male and therefore the heir to Raventree Hall. 

This story will be told from the 3rd person POV of either Sandor or Kalira, depending on the chapter.

**The Cast**

Rory McCann as Sandor Clegane**  
**

Here is Sandor Clegane's female counterpart, Kalira Blackwood.

Jamie Dornan as Silas Blackwood (Kalira's Brother).

**A WARNING:**

Although this book may be best classified as an "Erotic Fanfic", it is definitely a slow burn. If you're not patient enough to wait for characters to get established and the plot to progress then this may not be for you. If you like my writing style but you don't like waiting, drop me a comment requesting an erotic flashfiction and maybe I'll just make some smut for smuts sake. Or some SanSan. But that's definitely not what this story is.

Although I only have a few more "important" characters in mind to appear in the story, I will post pictures of what I imagine them to look like as they are introduced into the chapter. 

Thanks for reading the intro, hope you enjoy the story.

**(Also yes, I did make the cover art. It's not great, but the actual waterfall image is one I actually took myself in St Lucia 2 years ago. I photo-shopped in Sandor and Kalira. So if you see it anywhere else, it's stolen. I made this picture to best illustrate an upcoming scene and decided it looked good as a cover photo.)**


	2. Chapter 2

** Sandor **

Blue light seeped through the open window next to Sandor's bed, breathing a bit of life into the otherwise dusty, grey room. Sandor stirred, sighing through his nose tersely, turning to his side to block out the intrusive glow for a few more moments. He swallowed slowly, feeling the ache of his throat and the rough feeling of his dry tongue in his mouth, evidence of his excessive drinking of wine from last evening. Sandor rolled onto his back and stared up at the stone ceiling, slowly remembering the events of the night before. 

Silas Blackwood had wanted to adventure outside of Raventree Hall to a grubby tavern not too far away for a night of 'revelry', as he had called it. Sandor's lips twitched into a smirk, thinking of his new _lord_, and the trouble he'd caused the night before. What was supposed to be a casual time of drinking and indulgence had turned into something of a brawl when Silas had approached a whore who was otherwise involved with another patron of the tavern, and offered to outspend the man she was currently entertaining. Sandor had stepped in, and with one bludgeoning strike of his fist the man had been laid out and completely incapacitated. Silas celebrated by buying the entire tavern a round, and then another, and then...another. 

Silas wasn't bad as lords went, in Sandor's view. Silas liked drinking and whoring as much as his guards did, which made his men feel more like companions than grunts serving a noble lord. _If I have to be a sworn shield again, 'least it's not some pomp-driven, arse-licking piece of shit like Joffrey. _Sandor thought to himself, sighing deeply as he slowly sat up, the bed covers pooling around his waist. His head throbbed slightly, surprising him. _Seven Hells, how much did I drink?_ He mused sourly, slowly rising to his feet. He spotted a skin of wine on his bedside table, and snatched it quickly, bringing it to his lips and gulping down the sweet liquid as it ran over his parched tongue. It did little to quench his thirst, and he had drained it in mere moments, he tossed the container onto the bed dismissively. Sandor thumped across his small room, moving to where he'd discarded his soot-black armor on the floor the night before. Glancing around the dilapidated room that was now his, Sandor felt a wash of conflicting feelings rise over him. He began putting his armor on, as he recalled the circumstances in which he'd even come to reside at Raventree Hall. 

He'd just departed Riverrun, having left Arya with her Great-Uncle Brynden in exchange for some coin, and had stopped to buy some strongwine on his way out of town. He'd miss the wolf girl, but in truth Sandor was ready to start a new chapter of his life. It was a long way to Maidenpool, and he'd hoped to take a ship to Essos so he could inquire about joining the Second Sons. He'd settled in beneath a great tree to drink his wine, not wanting to chance being seen at any local taverns; Sandor wasn't sure if the bounty on his head still remained. Little did he know, someone was watching, waiting for him to finish his strongwine and fall into a stupor-driven sleep. He'd awoke to a dirty cloth being stuffed in his mouth as he was being tied up, he'd resisted and even knocked out a few men by kicking and headbutting them, before one of the men decided enough was enough, and smashed a rock on his head, blacking Sandor out. He stirred, hours later to find himself chained up, peering through bleary eyes to see Lord Tytos Blackwood speaking about him to the guards who'd captured him. Sandor had been thrown into a dank, moldy dungeon cell for a few days, until he begged an audience with Lord Tytos. Lord Tytos knew who he was, but seemed torn about what he should do with him...The crown had put a bounty on his head, but Tytos was hardly a sympathizer to the Lannisters. Sandor told him to write to Riverrun, to his liege lord, and inquire about his safe delivery of Arya Stark to the Blackfish. 

Lord Tytos Blackwood did just that, and upon receiving affirmation of Sandors story, asked him if he would serve in his guard. Specifically as a sworn shield for his son, Silas, who Tytos seemed concerned about. Sandor had agreed, not feeling like he had much of an option, but also because they'd given him a place to sleep (it wasn't much), fair pay, and the work was not too difficult...Mostly, it included guarding a drunken 26 year old lord against his own debauchery. 

Sandor snapped out of his thoughtful haze and cinched his sword belt. As he finished dressing he caught a glimpse of himself in the shoddy mirror on his dresser. The glass was impure and low quality, but it still did him no favors as he looked every bit the ugly brute he was in it's reflection. He frowned slightly reaching up to rake strands of sweaty, stringy brown hair over his marred face, arranging it as best he could to hide the hideous pink flesh that looked so puckered and angry compared to the rest of his skin. He stared for a moment at himself and tried to swallow, feeling a lump of something that fell somewhere between self-pity and hatred stick in his throat. He smacked the mirror down, hearing it shatter. _Good_ he thought bitterly, grinding his teeth in his mouth _it shouldn't fucking be in here anyways_. Sandor grabbed his sword and slid it into it's sheath, before reaching for his door...He doubted Silas would be up yet after such an intense evening, but Sandor was already out the door and on his way to the lords chambers. 


	3. Chapter 3

** Kalira **

Kalira sat on the stool of her vanity in her room, brushing her long brown hair slowly, wincing each time it caught on brush. It looked a mess, she hadn't tied it back before she went to sleep last night, and she was paying for it now. She grabbed the end of a lock of her hair and squinted her green eyes at it slightly, examining the color. 

"Looks like mud." She muttered, as she dropped the strand and continued working her unruly mane with the brush. She hummed quietly as she primped, gazing at herself in the mirror with a small smile on her lips. _Not sure that it matters how I look,_ she thought with a grin _it's just going to get all messed up today anyways._ She stood from her stool and started to pull a gauzy white dress over her slip. Kalira's gaze flickered over to the window, gauging the light in the sky. It was just past dawn, and she could hardly wait. She patiently sat back down in her chair, resting her chin in her hand as she stared out the stony windowsill. Silas had promised her the other day that they would go to their special place today. She tapped her fingers impatiently against her thigh, until her anticipation got the best of her and she couldn't wait any longer. _Silas will just have to get up early,_ she thought, biting her lip to hold back her smile as she sprung out of her chair, grabbing her saddlebag off the floor and hauling it onto her shoulder, she bounded out the door and into the hall.

* * * * *

Silas' room was not too far from hers, and she arrived at it quickly with her saddlebag bearing it's weight down on her shoulder, she shifted slightly to free her hand to knock on his door loudly. She waited a moment, sighing, before she reached up and knocked again. 

"Silas." Kalira called through the crack in the door. "It's me, wake up." She was greeted with silence once again. She strained under the weight of her bag and her nostrils flared as she felt a hint of annoyance at him and how heavily he slept. _He isn't even ready, probably still fucking sleeping._ She dropped the bag to the floor in front of his doorway, and rifled through it until she found her spare key to his room. Without even knocking again, she unlocked his door and flung it open, only to see Silas resting peacefully in his large canopy bed. With a huff, she slammed the door and stomped over to his bedside, pursing her lips and leaning down to his ear, she drew in her breath and yelled loudly, "WAKE UP!!!"

Silas jumped, startled, his large blue eyes springing open in surprise, he yelped loudly. "What the FUCK, Kali?" His chest heaved, obviously disturbed by her harsh awakening. 

Kalira smirked, shoving him over until she had room to perch her bottom on the edge of his bed. "You know what today is, don't you? Or have you forgotten again brother?" Kalira examined her fingernails, picking at them as she waited for his reply. He slowly blinked at her, still fuzzy with sleep, until recognition dawned on him.

"Oh...Was that _today_?" He feigned innocently, looking up at her with a regretful look as he turned his parched, flaking lips down in regret. "Kali, I can't...I was up until all hours last night, I feel ill...My stomach, and my head--"

"Oh, shut the fuck up you whinger." Kali huffed, disappointment searing through her as she chewed her bottom lip furiously. He _did_ look like shit, she thought to herself bitterly...but wasn't this just _so_ like Silas, he only ever thought about himself. "What the fuck, Silas. You know father won't let me go alone, how selfish are you, really? I never ask you for anything and you can't even do this for me." Kalira felt tears threatening her eyes as she stood up, sliding off of his bed.

"I'm sorry Kali, next time...I promise. We can go soon..." He muttered his words trailing off. Kalira looked back at him, but Silas was already droopy lidded, falling back asleep in his hungover state. Kalira clenched her fists as she started to walk back to his door, but a sharp knock stopped her in her tracks. 

Silas' eyes snapped back open, and he cleared his throat before calling out hoarsely, "Who is it?"

"The Hound, My Lord." A strong, rough voice called back. 

Kalira turned slightly and looked at Silas, raising a brow as if to ask what she should do. Silas glanced wearily at the door, and then back at her. 

"Tell him I'm not well," Silas said, nuzzling back into his pillows. "He's relieved for the day, just have him stop by the kitchens and tell them to send someone up with my meals for the day.Rowena, perhaps? Or...Who's the one with the red hair? Either one of them...Or both." He rambled, words half garbled by his pillows as he smirked a bit smugly, trailing off to sleep. 

Kalira rolled her eyes warily, stomping angrily back over to his door. She threw it open and stepped out before slamming it as hard as her small strength could muster, enjoying the thunderous boom it made. _Hope that wakes him up_ she thought bitterly. She stood there for a moment, staring at the grains of his wooden door as she seethed, before it dawned on her she wasn't alone there. The man they called The Hound, Sandor Clegane, stood a few feet away with his back to the wall, politely not looking at her as he stared straight ahead. 

"He's not seeing anyone," She snapped, a bit too angrily. "he told me to tell you that you're relieved for the day." 

The Hound turned towards her, his one eyebrow slightly raised as he glanced towards Silas' door. The corner of his normally stone-like mouth twitched, as if he might smile. "I take it Lord Silas is still recovering from last evening?" He inquired, leering at her slightly as he looked her over. 

Kalira leered right back at him for a moment, her eyes raking over his large form. He was imposing, that was for sure. Taller than any man she'd ever seen, and stronger too. His armor only made him look that much bigger, as if he wasn't big enough already. His scars added a dangerous aura to him, and she wondered silently how he got them... People at Raventree seemed scared of him more so because of his scars than his size. They whispered when he walked by, even most of the house guards seemed disturbed by his presence. Kalira wasn't frightened by him, or his scars. _He's just a man, not a demon._ She had thought dismissively when she'd heard the women in the kitchen fretting over his presence. In fact, Kalira quite liked his scars, they were such a contrast to his otherwise handsome face. He was different, like her. For once, people were scared of him rather than Kalira... 

Kalira frowned shaking herself out of her dark thoughts and bringing herself back to reality. She didn't like that he seemed bemused at this. She'd been looking forward to this day for months and here he was, laughing about it. "I'm glad you find it amusing, but it's unbecoming of the future lord of Raventree if you ask me." Kalira didn't really mean that, but with her hopes dashed she was spewing all manners of spite at the moment. 

"He's just a young Lord, having a bit of fun." The Hound retorted, his tone much harsher now as he gauged her mood. His cheeks also seemed flushed, as if Kalira could tell he wasn't fond of being spoken to in such a way.

"What's fun about it?" She said, with a little less venom, as she reached down to pick up her saddlebags. She stared at them dejectedly for a moment, before hauling them up to her shoulders, straining under the weight. She met his gaze again, searching his brown eyes. "Drinking yourself half to death, and sleeping with whores who have been gods know where...You _can't _tell me that's 'fun'." 

Sandor's large gauntlet clad hands reached out, and took her bags from her, lifting them effortlessly in one palm and holding them at his side. He looked at Kalira, his expression neutral as he spoke. "Fun enough for most. What would _you_ call fun then, my Lady?" 

Kalira fell quiet, and turned to start walking, and The Hound followed her, falling into step a few feet behind her. She noticed he had said the words 'My Lady' a bit strained. She wondered if a strong, weathered man like him was used to bowing to lesser men like her brother. She sighed quietly, her disappointment welling up in her chest as she walked, she had really wanted to go to their 'special place' today. When would she have the opportunity again? With winter coming the warm days were far and few between now, and it's not as if her father ever let her leave without Silas, so she needed him to go...Kalira halted in her tracks, as an idea dawned on her. The Hound stopped a few steps ahead of her, and turned to look back, confused why she'd stopped. Kalira smiled a closed lip smile at him, brimming with excitement.

"I'm so glad you asked, Ser Hound," She chirped brightly, but noticed him flinch as she addressed him that way. "Since my brother has so kindly deemed your services unnecessary today, you'll be escorting me." Kalira could barely contain her excitement, bouncing in place on the balls of her feet as if she were a girl of 6, rather than 28. 

"I'm not a Ser." The Hound growled at her, his eyes shooting daggers, he had all but forgotten his manners, until he spoke again. "Where do you need to be escorted to, _my lady_." He said the last part through clenched teeth, clearly bothered by what she had called him.

Kalira waved his annoyance away with her hand, unable to let his grouchiness damper her spirits, "Right, right...Well, as for where we're going...You'll just have to wait and see I suppose." Kalira was smiling widely now, winding her hair around her wrist as she fidgeted enthusiastically. "Meet me at the stables after you've had breakfast, we've got a full day ahead of us...Hound." She said his name awkwardly, it felt strange on her tongue. A bit...demeaning? She decided she would ask him later if he preferred something else.   


The Hounds lips were slightly parted in confusion, "My Lady, I--"

But Kalira had already started walking away from him, backwards in the direction of the dining hall her family used. "See you soon, don't take too long." She winked at him before spinning around the right way and hurriedly walking off, her palms tingling with excitement. 

_Finally, _Kalira thought, the stress rolling off her shoulders _a day out of this wretched, boring place. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Sandor**

Sandor cursed quietly to himself as he brushed Stranger's dark black coat, muttering expletives under his breath. He'd almost had the day to himself, before Silas' damn sister had gotten a hold of him. Now, he'd be out all day long in the heat while he was already dog fucking tired from last night. He threw the brush to the ground, kicking it across the stall in frustration. Stranger whinnied warily, and Sandor ran his fingers through the horse's mane softly to sooth him. He fumed as he stroked the soft hair, thinking about his encounter with _lady_ Kalira in the hall. The way she'd barked at him as if he was some lowly peasant. _Fuck her, spoiled little girl_ He thought to himself...But his anger was short lived, and he felt himself remembering the way she'd stared directly into his eyes, undaunted. He pictured her for a moment, her long hair the color of chestnut. The way her hips swung as she walked away from him that morning, and the way she'd winked at him with her sultry green eyes and left him standing there with her saddle bag. _Fuck..._ Sandor thought, feeling his pants tighten. He chased the thoughts away, and set to work saddling stranger while he waited for Kalira. 

* * * * * *

"Um, excuse me...Are you ready?"

Sandor awoke to a soft female voice, and the feeling of someone gently touching his shoulder. He bristled slightly, and moved to stand... Sandor realized he'd fallen asleep propped up against the side of Stranger's stall. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck from the heat, and he shifted his gaze to see Lady Kalira looking at him.

"Apologies, my lady" Sandor muttered gruffly, shifting uncomfortably in his plate armor. He'd been baking in the heat while he slept, and he felt absolutely drenched now. It was going to be a miserable day, but he kept his composure nonetheless. "Where are we off to?" He inquired politely.

Lady Kalira laughed softly, a sparkle in her eyes. "You'll see...Are you ready?" She had her hands wrapped around the reins of a white mare, who was already saddled. 

Sandor grunted softly, before reaching down to retrieve her saddle bag, and hefted it up onto the horse and secured it properly for her. Sandor went into Stranger's stall and led him out, pausing for a moment he meant to ask Lady Kalira if she needed help getting onto her horse but decided against it. He was her guard for the day, nothing more. Not some gallant knight bending to the wills and whims of a prissy Lady.

Sandor mounted stranger while Lady Kalira mounted her mare without struggle, and together they rode slowly over to the gate, where the guards were stationed at the drawbridge. 

"HALT!" A voice called, and Sandor quickly looked around to see who had called out to them. A guard was rushing over to them, looking flustered.

"Lady Kalira, I'm sorry but you know the rules..." The guard looked between Kalira and The Hound, and Sandor glared back at him. _What rules? _Sandor wondered to himself.

"Silas is unwell today, he has sent his sworn shield to escort me in lieu of himself..." Lady Kalira continued on arguing with the guard, and Sandor quietly noted her lie, wondering why. 

"Is this true, Hound? Lord Silas sent you?" The guard addressed Sandor, and he noticed his voice was meek, as if he were afraid of Sandor. The thought annoyed him.

Sandor paused for a moment, glancing at Lady Kalira. This could all be over and he could go back to his room for the day and relax if he admitted that wasn't true...But Lady Kalira was looking at him with such a pleading look in her eyes, he couldn't bring himself to out her. 

"Aye, it's true." Sandor muttered, unsure of why he was lying for her but he went along with it anyways.

"I see...My apologies, Lady Kalira." The guard bowed slightly and backed away, giving the signal for the drawbridge to be lowered so that Sandor and Lady Kalira could pass.

Lady Kalira was smiling with her head bowed slightly, and she snuck a look over at Sandor, mouthing _thank you_ silently to him. He nodded at her, wondering if he had just made a poor decision...

Once they were a ways away from Raventree Hall, Sandor turned to look at Kalira, puzzled.

"Why do you need permission to leave your own keep?" Sandor inquired, his tone almost a growl. He doubted she would tell him the truth either way, but the curiosity ate at him. 

Kalira paused, a small smirk drawing across her lips as she glanced at him, before fixing her gaze back on the path. 

She drew in a breath and then said sweetly, "Because, dear Hound...I get into trouble." And with that, she snapped the reins of her horse and raced off the path, in a direction opposite of where they had been headed. Sandor cussed loudly to himself, before snapping Stranger's reins and following her, concern washing over him. _Seven hells! _Fucking Lord Tytos would have his head if his pretty daughter met a gruesome fate because he lost her. Sweat trickled down his neck as he bore down on Stranger, willing him to go faster.

  
* * * * *

It felt like ages before Kalira finally slowed her horse to a trot, finally looking over her shoulder to acknowledge Sandor. She smirked at him playfully, her hair windblown and wild, framing her beautiful face. "Glad you kept up." She said with a giggle.

Sweat strewed down Sandors face, his wavy hair sticking to his slick skin as the sun beat down on him. "It's fucking _hot_." Sandor wheezed, wishing he'd brought something to drink. He hung his head for a moment, panting quietly and watching the sweat drip off of his face onto the saddle. Suddenly, he felt something nudge his arm. Sandor looked up, and found Lady Kalira had pulled her horse up next to his, and she was offering him a skin, filled with something. _Wine?_ Sandor thought, hopefully. He raised it to his cracked lips and felt water rush over his tongue. _Damn..._

"You really are thirsty..." Kalira looked at him sympathetically, as Sandor guzzled the last of the water. She reached out to take it from him, and he handed it back.

"...It's empty." Sandor felt his cheeks burn slightly with embarrassment, he'd hogged the last of her water. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, and he froze for a moment. Kalira was staring at him, and she didn't look away when he stared back. Sandor felt like he was drowning in a sea of her green eyes, paralyzed by the intimacy of the moment. He studied her small, sloped nose. Her flushed, smooth cheeks. Sandor imagined she had the nicest skin he'd ever seen, not pale and sickly like most ladies liked, she was fair but with a glow. His eyes settled on her mouth last, her lips were dusky and full and Sandor allowed himself to imagine what they might feel like against his own mouth...Or wrapped around his cock--

Kalira cleared her throat softly, breaking him out of his reverie. Her brows knitted together, and her expression seemed concerned, as if she could read his wicked thoughts. Sandor quickly turned away, looking back towards the path they were now on. His heart thrummed in his chest as he waited for her to continue on ahead with her mare, before he lead Stranger to follow her. _How long had he stared at her? _He wondered. It could have been 5 seconds or 5 hours for all he knew, but clearly she hadn't liked it. "Fucking fool..." He mumbled at himself quietly, shaking his head as he chased away his perverse thoughts.

Not too long later, Kalira slowed her mare to a stop, right at the edge of a shallow wooded ravine. She looked at Sandor expectantly, and he slowed Stranger to a stop and waited. 

"...Okay, are you ready?" Kalira asked impatiently, raising her brows at him.

Sandor peered back at her guardedly, and looked down the hill in front of them. "Here? It's fucking dense, how do you expect to guide the horses through that?" 

Kalira shrugged at him, and gently tugged on the reins of her mare as she headed for the edge. "They'll manage." She said confidently. 

Sandor rolled his eyes as she slowly guided her reluctant mare down the steep hill, not looking back to see if Sandor followed. He did, but much slower than she did as he carefully lead stranger down what could barely be called a path, it was so hideously overgrown. 

They moved painstakingly slow, until they finally reached the bottom of the hill. It was something of a valley with steep walls on both sides, and a small creek running through it. Kalira wasted no time swinging off of her mare and tying her to a nearby tree. She looked up at Sandor, crossing her arms and studying him.

"Well?" She huffed.

"Well, what?" Sandor asked her incredulously, his voice turning to gravel as his dislike for her attitude grew. "Where the fuck are we? And why?"

"Tie your horse up. You'll see. We can't take them any further...It's not far from here, they'll be okay." Kalira softened her voice a bit, offering him an awkward smile in what he guessed was an attempt to try to break the tension.

Sandor exhaled deeply, he was already over this excursion of hers, and here they were in the middle of gods know where leaving their horses alone. He carefully dismounted stranger, and tied him to a thick tree a few feet away from her mare. _Best not be taking chances..._ Sandor thought guardedly, eyeing his beast of a horse. He turned to see Kalira lifting her skirts up as she tried to cross the small river, but she was having a hard time reaching the other side without walking straight through it. Sandor walked up next to her, and crossed it in one stride with ease. He looked back at her waiting on the other side, and she blushed slightly as if she were too shy to ask him for help. 

Sandor cleared his throat quietly, and bit out a few words in an attempt to seem polite. "Need help?"

Kalira stared at him with wide eyes and nodded curtly. Sandor widened his stance as he reached over and clasped his massive hands around her small waist, lifting her without any audible strain and setting her at his side. She immediately looked up at him with a grin, her cheeks flushed. Sandor wondered if it was from the heat or his intimate grasp around her waist.

"You're strong..." She said, and Sandor bit his tongue to keep from making a sarcastic comment about the obviousness of her statement. He merely grunted in reply.

"Where now?" He asked, glancing in either direction.

She stared back at him, smirking. "Don't you hear it? I thought for sure you'd have heard it by now." 

Sandor suppressed his annoyance at her endless attempts to create suspense, and cocked his head to listen. _Running water, _he thought, _a lot of it..._

"Some kind of waterfall?" He guessed, tilting his head down to look at her.

Kalira was practically bursting with excitement at this point, bouncing in place. "Yes, exactly. Come on, it's not far!" And with that she reached out and grasped his armored hand and pulled him to follow her. 

Sandors cheeks burned, and for a moment he wished he'd taken his gauntlets off, picturing the feeling of her small soft hand in his big rough one. He lumbered after her, letting her lead the way until he found himself gazing upon a big, beautiful waterfall. All nestled in this unruly wooded ravine, it thundered loudly into a small crystal clear pond at the base of it. Sandor felt the heat prickling on his skin as he sweated inside his armor, wishing deeply that he could shed his chainmail and feel the cold water rushing over his sweltering skin. As they approached the falls a fine mist drifted through the air and landed on his face, and Sandor stood there with his eyes closed enjoying the feeling of it. When he opened his eyes again, Kalira had already kicked off her shoes and was in the process of shedding her dress, revealing the delicate slip she had on beneath it. 

Sandor turned his head away sharply, fixing his gaze on a tree in the distance. "You could've warned me at least, before you did that..." He called out roughly, not willing himself to look back in her direction.

Kalira laughed, a bit crazily he thought, and she called back to him with pure joy in her voice. "I'm sure you can handle it, it's not as if you've never seen a woman in a slip before!" 

Sandor ground his teeth slightly, her words reminding him of his secret shame. Of course, he'd seen women naked before. He'd spent his entire life surrounded by soldiers or drinking in taverns, it was impossible not to see the occasional whore with her teats out and bouncing around. This felt different though, more intimate. Sandor allowed his gaze to flicker back to where Kalira stood, and by now she was waist deep in the water. He watched her lean back and slowly dunk her long brown hair into the water, and he couldn't help but admire the way it clung together when wet. It looked darker, and longer. So much longer in fact that it nearly brushed her arse. Kalira rose out of the water, standing straight up and Sandor felt his mouth drop open, gaping at the sight before him. Her already thin white slip was now completely soaked and see through, and it clung to her rear in such a way that he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She'd might as well have been nude, the fabric accentuated the cleft of the top of her arse and her round cheeks--

"Are you coming in, Hound?" Kalira called out to him.

Sandor came back to reality, his trousers straining from his moment of reverie. She was asking him to join her, and Sandor was absolutely drenched in sweat... But his cock was hard as a rock right now. He imagined shedding his armor in front of her, only for him to see the obvious bulge in his pants. _She'd fucking laugh. An ugly old dog like me getting all excited over watching a 'lady' swimming in her clothes. Or worse, she'd be disgusted..._

Sandor felt paralyzed by his thoughts but he swallowed the lump in his throat and called out to her, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "Alright...L-look away." He hated the way the words caught in his throat like a scared little boy. 

Kalira looked away dutifully, and Sandor could swear he heard her giggle quietly. _Seven hells... _he thought, before he shook the fear out of his mind and began shedding his armor, the plate and chain clattering as it collided with the ground. Sandor set to work pulling off layer after layer, one boot and then another, until he was standing there in just his trousers. He glanced down, noticing his cock was barely hard anymore. _We'll see how long that lasts around her..._ he thought with a grimace, before he set towards the water where Kalira was waiting patiently with her back to him.


	5. Chapter 5

** Kalira **

Kalira heard the sloshing sounds of the Hound treading the water behind her, and she squelched her curiosity to look back at him. It was hard to miss the reluctance in his voice when she'd asked him to join her, and Kalira wondered the source of it. She could only guess his hesitation stemmed from her presence, but why? Because she was a _lady?_ Kalira mused silently as she heard the Hound wade up next to her. She demurred for a moment, before sneaking a glance up at his looming form. 

Her lips parted in awe as she took him in. 

He was tall, that she'd already known, but where the water reached just below her breasts it only came up to the Hound's lower midriff. Which in itself, gave Kalira pause. His torso was larger than she expected, thick with muscle. Her gaze trailed up to his chest and arms, slowly realizing how burly he was. Her eyes raked over the bulging peaks of his arms and shoulders, and the way his broad chest swelled with each breath he took. But more than his sculpted form, Kalira was taken aback by his hair--His _body_ hair, that was. It was absolutely everywhere, a dark brown fluff that started at the base of his neck and ran down all the way below his hips, delving into his trousers. It was coarse at his chest, but further down past his navel it looked more like a soft fuzz. Which, Kalira suddenly and inexplicably yearned to touch. She broke her gawking stare from his waist and drew it back up to his chest, her eyes following to his neck where the corded muscles were twitching in a way that looked distressed. He was staring straight ahead, the burned side of his face not visible to her from this angle, but his expression was strained in a way she couldn't read. _I've embarrassed him with my ogling..._ She thought, regretfully. The stoic Hound made no move to look back at her, so she cleared her throat softly until he met her eyes with a withering glare. Kalira couldn't help but try to alleviate the negative air, and her words tumbled out before she could think of anything better to say.

"You're covered in fur!" 

His mouth fell agape as if he meant to speak, before he quickly clenched his jaw and doubled down on his hateful scowl that would have made most women shrink. _Most_ women. Kalira took a few short uneasy breaths before she continued.

"Is that why they call you the Hound? Because you're all furry, like a dog?"

She extended a delicate hand in his direction, and playfully brushed her fingertips in a swirling motion over the downy hair above his naval. 

The Hound jumped back abruptly, so truly startled that she heard him exhale sharply in surprise at her touch. He smacked her hand away roughly, his eyes wide but unrelenting in their aggression.

"The FUCK are you doing?" He barked at her through clenched teeth, and she noticed he had instinctively moved a broad palm to cover his chiseled stomach where her fingers had been, as if she'd stabbed him rather than just touched him. 

Kalira shot him a wounded look. He hadn't hurt her, yet his fury made her hesitate. It seemed such a small thing to get so upset over, barely a whisper of a touch. Kalira wondered warily for a moment if she was safe with him, he did have a reputation for bloodshed after all. Perhaps his inner beast did not take so much to trigger. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth as she racked her mind for a pacifying phrase, something to bring the brawny seething man standing before her down from his furor. A coy thought came to mind, and she swallowed hard before delivering her next remark.

"My apologies...In my experience, most hounds _like_ to be petted." She couldn't keep the quiver from her voice, knowing her dry quip could send him just as easily into another raging spiral as it could douse the fires of his mood. 

The Hound's lips twitched lightly, and he trekked closer to her in the water until he was nearer than he had been before he'd jumped away from her. His head bent slightly and she could feel his warm breath on her face when he spoke to her this time, his dark eyes glinting with something akin to devilry. He towered over her, blocking out the sun and paralyzing her with his fierce expression.

"Has the littlelady had that much experience with hounds?" He snarled at her mockingly, his voice dripping venom in a way meant to frighten her.

And it did. Kalira trembled under the shadow of his hulking form, but she didn't relent her gaze. She held his brown eyes with her green ones, her tongue flicking out to wet her suddenly bone dry lips before she spoke.

"None like you." She whispered, an audible tremor in her voice giving her away.

The Hound straightened, leaning away from her and finally letting his gaze flicker away.

"Aye. None like me." He echoed back without looking at her, before turning away and wading into deeper water.

The air rushed from Kalira's lungs and she realized she'd been holding her breath. She stared at his strong back, watching the corded muscle flex and ripple as he moved. He was washing his face and thus otherwise distracted.

Kalira dragged her teeth over her lower lip in mild irritation at the fact he'd tried to frighten her... More-so, she was irritated he'd succeeded. She had begun to think the Hound was more bark than bite, and that he just preferred being feared. Kalira's nostrils flared as a wicked idea came into her mind.

_You're not the only one capable of scaring people, hound. _She thought to herself as she quietly swam her way to the far end of the pond behind the waterfall, where the wall scaled up some fifty feet into the air. She deftly began climbing the wet rocks, her fingers straining as she pulled herself up as quickly and silently as possible. Kalira had done this before, of course. It was part of the reason she so loved coming here...but, the Hound didn't need to know that.

Higher and higher she climbed, until she was clinging to a damp rocky ledge about thirty feet above him. He still hadn't noticed though, and this frustrated her. She waited a few moment, staring at the top of his brown head and willing him to look up at her. 

"_Oh for fucks sake..._" Kalira hissed quietly through her clenched teeth. She drew in a long breath before she mimicked her best effort at a woman shrieking with terror.

Her scream echoed in the valley and immediately the Hounds head snapped up towards the noise. His jaw hung slack as he gaped up at her, frozen in place. _Good_ she thought, _be scared, you mean old dog._

"I-I'm slipping...I can't hold on!!" Kalira cried out in a shrill voice, pretending to shake with fear. She grasped at the wet stones in front of her in a fumbling manner, feigning inexperience. She turned her head to hide her smile as she she gently pushed off the rocks in a way that mimicked falling as she soared through the air towards the base of the falls.

The water thundered in her ears as she plunged below the surface, and she pinched her eyes shut and stayed below for a few extra seconds, holding her breath.

And as she expected, huge arms wrapped around her and dragged her up to safety. She felt her cheek pressed against his hard chest as the Hound waded frantically to the waters edge with her laying limp in his arms. Kalira kept her breathing shallow and willed herself not to break the charade as an untimely giggle bubbled in her chest, but she swallowed it down quickly. She felt him carefully lay her down on the pebbly shore of the pond, his wet hair dripped onto her skin as he leaned over her, panting loudly.

"Kalira?" The Hound whispered, his voice sounding scratchy and broken. She felt a twinge in her chest for a moment, a hint of regret for having a go at him in such a serious way. But she stuffed the feeling aside and made her eyelids flicker dramatically, mumbling incoherently at him.

"Mhhmfh.."

The Hounds eyes looked lost, fearful even.

"I can't understand you..." He rasped helplessly, his breath wild and uneven. 

She raised a hand slightly and gestured for him to come closer.

He leaned in, tilting his good ear towards her mouth as he held his breath, waiting for her to speak again.

"Got you." Kalira said softly into the shell of his ear, her smile breaking through.

The Hound moved back away from her, his stare incredulous.

"What?" He said in a guarded voice, eyes raking over her small form.

Kalira propped herself up on her elbows with ease, giving him a smug look.

"I. Got. You." She repeated slowly. "I scared you. Now we're even." 

The Hound sat back on his haunches, kneeling in the wet gravel with an indecipherable look on his face. He stayed silent.

Kalira's sopping wet chest rose and fell heavily as she studied him. Before, he'd gone to great care not to get his hair wet while he was swimming. Now he sat before her, his brown hair strewn across his face and neck clinging to his damp skin. His chest hair was slicked against his muscled front, looking darker and less curled now. 

She had figured he'd either have been laughing at this point, or bellowing angrily at her for this little caper...But he did neither. The Hound simply rose to his feet and walked to where he'd discarded his armor, slowly redressing himself.

Kalira frowned softly, her eyes following his every move as he pulled his layers on. _Nothing?_ She thought dejectedly. She scrambled to her feet and padded over to him, wincing as she stepped on sharp rocks.

"Hey..." She crooned gently, reaching out to touch his wrist where he was already pulling on a gauntlet. "It was just a trick, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm...Sorry?" Kalira was at a loss. Of all the reactions she'd expected, this wasn't it.

The Hound stilled, before he craned his neck slightly to look at her. He sighed deeply, and shook his head dismissively as he spoke to her in an even and clear voice.

"You're a stupid little girl." 

Kalira froze, and for reasons she couldn't explain, she felt worse than when he'd yelled and snarled at her earlier. He was...disappointed in her. Tears pricked at her eyes and she tilted her head back slightly to hold them off. She moved her hand off of his wrist, and she clenched her fists tightly into balls at her sides.

"No. I'm not." She replied, her voice wavering.

He turned to face her fully as he secured his second gauntlet, his eyes boring harshly into hers.

"You are. You're a spoiled, irresponsible, foolish little girl. It's clear now, your lord father doesn't let you leave the keep because you're not to be trusted. You're no _lady_. You're a child." His nostrils flared as he spoke, and his lips curled up with distaste. 

Kalira recognized this anger was different from before. His barking comments were one thing, but this was less unruly, more controlled. He meant what he said, and she couldn't hold her tears back at this point. For the life of her, she couldn't explain why this hurt her so. Who was he to her, but some half scarred body guard that he should have such control over her feelings? People all over Raventree Hall had spoken ill of her privately ever since they learned her secret some 14 years ago, and the words of all those servants, guards, knights, and whores didn't bother her half as much as his did now. Terrible words bubbled in her throat, and try as she might she couldn't keep them down.

"And you're a disgusting beast." She yelled hatefully, tears streaming down her face and garbling her voice.

As soon as it left her mouth, Kalira's hand shot up to cover her the source of her cruel thoughts. But it was too late, and the air hung heavy between them with her words. She swore she saw the light in his eyes extinguish.

The Hound's mouth twisted into a pained smile.

"_I know._"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that the first small bit of erotica takes place in this chapter.

**Sandor**

The ride back towards Raventree Hall was silent, and Sandor was relieved that Kalira had her own horse. She'd tried to apologize to him back at the waterfall but he'd had none of it, and stalked back to Stranger so briskly that he could have left her behind if he so pleased. 

Sandor was riding some ten feet behind her now, she'd given up trying to talk to him and was keeping her distance. _Good_ he thought, his fists gripping onto Strangers reins tighter as he recalled the words she'd spewed at him.

_Disgusting beast._

His teeth ground in his mouth as the words echoed in his mind, taunting him. Sandor exhaled roughly through his nose and shook away the thoughts, fixing his eyes on the path ahead of him...mainly, on her. For even though the sting of her words hadn't yet faded, he couldn't stop looking at her. 

She looked beautiful riding on her white mare. Her hair had dried in a wavy mess and it was blowing wildly in the wind. Every time she turned her head to check and see if he was still following, the silhouette of her delicate features stood out stark against the setting sun. 

Sandor mentally revoked his earlier sentiment. Maybe he wouldn't have minded sharing a horse with her. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd lusted after a highborn woman who couldn't stand the sight of him. Might as well have her round arse pressed against him while they rode, it would at least give him something to stroke his cock to later. He was so lost in his bitter yet carnal thoughts that he hadn't noticed she had stopped until he was almost upon her. 

Kalira was looking back at him, her eyes holding none of the confidence she'd had all day long before. 

"Why have we stopped?" Sandor growled at her.

She hesitated a moment, and he saw her throat bob as she swallowed hard with nervousness.

"Um, I have a s-stop to make...You don't have to come. Raventree Hall isn't that far, just go the rest of the way without me." She said meekly, staring at her hands instead of at him.

Sandor snorted gruffly at her. 

"Not a chance. I'll not be letting you out of my sight until we're back through those gates." 

She peeked up at him and offered a timid half-smile, warmed at his words. She seemed to misinterpret the meaning. She opened her mouth again to speak, but he cut her off quickly.

"Not that I care about what happens to you, but because I'll not have your lord father blaming me for your recklessness. So, make it quick. I haven't eaten a damn thing all day and if you think me to be a _beast _now, you should see me when I'm hungry." He dug in with his words, waiting for a hurt expression to wash over her again.

Except, she didn't even flinch. Wordlessly she steered her mare closer to him and dug into her saddlebags, producing some dried meat strips and an apple.

"Here," She said lamely as she extended her food-filled palms at him, her green eyes flickering up for a moment "it'll hold you over, 'til we get back at least." 

Sandor wasn't so famished that he needed her pity offerings, but she was acting like such a beat dog that he felt hard pressed to resist her efforts. He sighed deeply, glancing away as he reached his upturned hand towards her. Sandor felt her fingers gently brush over his in an exaggerated way as she placed the food into his palms. It felt deliberate, and his eyes quickly shifted to her searchingly...But she was already riding towards their next destination. He followed dutifully, his mind already drifting to indecent places set in motion by her tender touch.

* * * * * *

Her words had been true that their stop would be brief, before darkness had set they were back at Raventree Hall. Kalira had visited a traveling merchant outside a nearby inn, seeming to expect that he would be there. She'd purchased a few tomes, some Dornish fruit and wine, spices, and some kind of powders and paints he expected were for her face. 

When they'd finally returned and were stabling their horses Sandor demurred by tending to Stranger, waiting for her to leave. He waited to hear her footsteps padding away before he slipped out of the stall and headed for his chambers. 

He tread through dank hallways, some that the servants hadn't even bother to keep the braziers lit, until he found his door. He lumbered inside slowly, fatigue wearing down on him heavily from the long day. Sandor leaned back against his door as he shut it behind him as his eyes flickered around his tiny, dark room. He set to the painstaking task of shedding his armor, tossing his gauntlets onto the ground with a clatter, until he was just in his breeches. His tired feet carried him to his bed, and he hauled his massive body up onto it as he settled in and waited for sleep to take him. 

...Only, it didn't. Sandor felt unsettled, his mind unrelenting in his thoughts of her. He closed his eyes and he tried to picture anything else, but all he saw was Kalira. Riding her horse, treading into the water, smiling at him, screaming at him. His jaw clenched thinking of her sour words, and he chased the thought away. Instead, he dragged up the image of her laying on her back when he'd 'rescued' her from her fall.

Her dress had been soaked, and it hugged her full breasts like a second skin. His cock stirred in his trousers as he recalled the way her nipples strained against the tight, wet fabric. As furious as he'd been, he'd allowed himself that moment to drink in the sight of her. As any sane man would. 

Sandor felt himself throbbing with need, and he couldn't curb the desire any longer. He thrust his rough palm down into his breeches and freed his hardening cock from the restraint, taking himself in his hand as he stroked at it languidly. 

He pictured her again, her lovely face. Her soft lips. He wondered if she'd ever taken a man in her mouth before, worked a man with her tongue? Sandor released his shaft for a moment and raised his hand to his mouth as he spit into his palm, and quickly brought it back to his pulsing cock. He stroked the wetness down the swollen head and length of his member, feeling his balls tighten with every pump. 

Sandor squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he worked himself. In his head, he was fucking her pretty little mouth. She was sucking at him hungrily, as if she'd never tasted anything better than Sandor's manhood. He imagined twisting a calloused palm up in her soft brown hair while he thrust against her plush, wet lips. 

Sandor felt his balls draw in as he neared his finish, and he squeezed his cock tighter, conjuring up one last image to send him over the edge. Sandor pictured himself pulling out of her mouth, her green eyes widening as he exploded his seed all over her perfect teats, coating her tight pink nipples with a wash of his white cum--

Sandor bit out her name through bared teeth as he found his release, groaning loudly as cum spurted from the head of his cock, covering his hand as his climax went on unrelenting. Finally, he finished, slowing his hand to a stop with a low growl. Sandor panted quietly in the dark, leaning his head back onto his pillow as he stared at the ceiling. He wondered wryly how she would feel, knowing what he'd just done whilst thinking of her... 

Without even bothering to clean himself up, Sandor closed his eyes and exhaustion took him.

* * * * * *

The next few days went by unexceptionally, though Sandor didn't mind. Perhaps guarding Silas was not as stirring in comparison to guarding the bastard-King Joffrey, but Sandor was glad to be done serving the tyrannical yellow haired cunts. 

Where Silas had first seemed pleased to have a weathered mercenary such as the Hound at his disposal, he quickly grew tired of being constantly trailed and preferred only being accompanied when he left the keep. Maybe he should have been insulted, but Sandor felt indifferent. His daily routine included paying a visit to Silas' quarters in the morning to inquire about if he was needed. If not, he would set to patrolling Raventree Hall for the better part of the day. Sometimes Silas would call upon him for escort to a local tavern or inn, but most nights were uneventful. 

The other guards at Raventree seemed mostly indifferent or fear-stricken by Sandor's presence, though he was used to it. He dined in silence in their mess halls for meals, averting his eyes when they amused themselves with local whores. 

It wasn't that the sight distressed him so much, but that it made him think of Kalira. He'd seen her only briefly in the last three eves, a passing in the hall or a fleeting glance when he walked by a room. Sandor made no effort to converse with her, only offering a curt bow of his head when she passed. She asked if he was well sometimes or how the day was finding him and he kept tight lipped, answering as shortly and stiffly as possible. Her disappointment was palpable and if he dared to steal a glance at her as she was briskly rushed away by her handmaidens and servants, she was always looking back at him with hurt confusion. He told himself that it was better this way, better than he keep his distance from her. Better for her, better for him. She had a free spirit that refused to be stifled, a wildness to her that her father obviously tried and failed to contain. Sandor could imagine too many scenarios with her that involved him being dismissed, or worse, relieved of his head...And what's more, a Lady like her needn't get so close to a drowning man. 

And so it went, until one evening where Sandor found himself drinking alone in his room from a skin of wine. He was slouched back onto his bed in his breeches and plain shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He thumbed lazily through a book that the previous resident of his room had left on the shelves, only half reading it. It was some story about the Targaryen dynasty that only barely held Sandor's attention, he didn't care much for tales of legacy. He rolled a mouthful of wine over his tongue, pausing as a faint knock sounded from his door. He swallowed, before sliding off his too-small bed and grabbing his sword as he approached the door. He opened it just enough, peering through the small gap. 

It was a young girl he recognized one of Kalira's handmaidens, looking absolutely frightened to be there. Her face looked pale and bleak, lips pressed into a hard line. 

He bit the inside of his cheek roughly, annoyed. 

"What?" He barked, when she didn't speak first.

The girl jumped, stammering over her words as she quickly dove into her task.

"T-the Lady Kalira has requested your presence in the kitchens, m-my Lord..." Her voice wavered, and Sandor resisted the overwhelming urge to tell her he wasn't a bleedin' Lord. 

"The Kitchens?" He muttered, confusion tamping down his sour mood. 

The girl suddenly moved from her paralyzed state as if she'd just remembered something, reaching into her pocket to retrieve a scroll. She reached her hand out timidly towards him, clutching it gently. 

Sandor snatched it from her, and turned it over in his palms. It was sealed with wax, a tree with three ravens impressed into it. _How very formal. _He thought sardonically, a crude smirk crossing his lips. He glanced up at the still quivering girl before him, and he placed a firm hand onto the door, slamming it shut without another word.

He crossed his room in three easy strides, back to his bed. He unfurled the note, tilting it towards the window where the blue light of the moon could illuminate for him.

_Dear Hound,_

_You've been eluding me these past few days,_

_don't think I haven't noticed. _

_There's a new recipe I want to try, and _ _I_

_could use another pair of hands in the kitchens._

_A pair of big, strong hands. . ._

_Or do you call them your paws? I'm not sure._

_Come and help, I'll feed you and give you wine._

_\- Lady Kalira Blackwood_

Sandor's dark eyes raked over her scrawling effeminate text once, twice, three times. His lips curled up slightly in a wicked smile where he read her attempt at humor, and he gently brushed his calloused fingers over her signature. 

"_Strange girl.._." He rasped softly, his pulse quickening slightly.

Gently, he set the letter on the bed next to him before leaning down to grab at where he'd discarded his armor. He gave pause for a moment, wondering if he should go. His fingers clutched at his mail, and he sighed before letting it slip from his grasp. _No, _he thought with clenched teeth, _ I won't go. Hounds and Ladies needn't get so close..._

He glanced back at her letter, swallowing hard for a moment, he imagined her waiting for him in the warm glow of the kitchens. He pictured her beautiful face turning sad as the night grew on, when she realized he ignored her request and wasn't coming.

"Fuck it!" He growled, hauling himself to his feet as he began pulling his armor on hastily. He dressed himself quicker than he had in a long time, securing his grieves and gauntlets and fastening his sword belt. 

His eyes traveled to where the broken mirror lay, and he slowly crossed the room to sift through the broken pieces. He found a big shard, and turned it over to peer at himself.

His brown hair looked unruly, and he mussed at it with his fingers until it hung over his mottled flesh in a way that only looked half hideous. He placed the shard back on the table, and turned to the door, his hand pausing as he touched the cold knob. 

His nostrils flared as a storm raged inside him, feelings of lust and desire clashed with fear and shame. Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts.

Sandor took a deep breath, and yanked the door open, his mind made up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Kalira**

Kalira sat perched atop a stool in the kitchen, tapping her fingertips nervously against the wooden table the servants used to prepare food. It hadn't been long since she'd sent her handmaiden, Fayle, to speak to him...but, here she was already fretting about whether or not the Hound would show. Fayle had returned to her in a rather unnerved state, informing Kalira that he'd taken the note and shut the door fiercely without another word. The odds didn't seem in her favor but she had dismissed her handmaiden for the evening and sat patiently in the empty kitchens, waiting.

Before long, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps descending down the stone steps towards her. She bit her lip to hide her already growing smile, and he appeared in the open door a few feet away. 

The Hound hunched slightly to clear the arch, and stood facing her._ Gods he was tall _she thought to herself, fascinated His enormous armor clad figure loomed at the entrance, casting long shadows in the dimly lit room. She met his gaze unabashedly, and she was surprised to find no harshness there. Rather, he looked a tad uneasy instead of his typical scowl or stoic expression. She saw him swallow hard and his gruff voice came out sounding more hoarse than usual.

"Bit late for a Lady to be out of her chambers, and in the kitchens no less." 

Kalira smiled ever so slightly, pleased that he no longer seemed mad at her.

"'Tisn't so late," she said in a sweet tone "come, have a drink. And then we can begin." She thumped her knuckles lightly on the stool to her left, inviting him to move from the door. 

The Hound hesitated a moment before moving towards her, and to her surprise he lifted the stool to place it on the opposite side she had suggested. She thought it strange, watching him settle onto the chair with his armor clanging lightly against the table.

Then, it dawned on her. 

_His scars..._ She concluded sadly as she turned to look at him, unable to view the ruined side of his face from here. Kalira took this moment to assess him, as if he weren't scarred. 

He was comely. He had a strong nose, and a solid jaw framed by a thick dark beard that could use a trim. His lips were neither full nor thin, but somewhere in-between. The one brow he had was thick, furrowed, and sharply shaped. But what really struck her was his eyes.

Perhaps for some, those eyes were a source of terror and pain. Kalira imagined they'd maybe even been the last fearsome sight for many to behold before they died. She'd seen them full of hate, annoyance, and vitriol--All directed at her. Yet, now, she found them beautiful. A warm, gentle brown color, they were deep set and slightly down-turned at the outer corners. _The eyes of a sad pup, rather than a Hound. _She thought wistfully, though she'd never share that notion with him.

The soft grunt of the Hound clearing his throat woke her from her spell, and she found that he was staring back at her with what she perceived to be mild discomfort. She realized she'd been leering at him a bit too long, and she broke the silence first to ease his unrest. 

"Wine?" She squeaked at him, inwardly cringing at her shrill voice as she slid one of the two empty goblets she'd set out towards him. 

The Hound hemmed in acknowledgement, tipping the gilded cup towards her slightly as she poured him a cup full. She watched him bring it to his lips to drink, as she began to fill her own.

"So, for tonight I--" Kalira had gotten distracted and her goblet had over-swelled with wine and splashed onto her hands. "Ah, fuck." She cussed quietly, setting the receptacle down as she brought her wet fingertips to her mouth to clean them off.

She glanced up at the Hound, and his hand was frozen mid-air holding his cup a few inches from his face. His lips were parted as if he were in awe, watching her suck the sweet wine from her fingers. She stopped quickly, and instead swiped her damp fingers on her skirts. The Hound snapped his gaze away from her, his cheeks flushing as he downed his entire cup without pause.

Kalira bit back the urge to smile, wondering where his mind was. She averted her gaze, letting him regain his composure as she grasped the pitcher of wine and poured him another cup.

"Pardon my clumsiness...As I was saying, tonight I wanted to try and bake an unusual recipe using some of the items I procured from the Dornish merchant the day you accompanied me." She said crisply, gesturing to the bowls of ingredients that lie before them as well as the book she had purchased which was already flipped open to the page they needed.

She turned her head slightly to look at the Hound to find that he was sipping heavily at his drink, eyeing the powders and spices in front of him. He set his cup down firmly and turned in his seat to fully face her. 

"Perhaps I'm missing something, my Lady, by the virtue of _what_ exactly am I more suited to this task than a kitchen wench or a scullery maid?" His voice seemed a little more confident now, possibly fueled by the wine.

"I could be misinterpreting your tone, dear Hound," She purred at him as she twisted a strand of her silky hair around a finger, "...but it almost sounds as if you don't want to help me." She tilted her head innocently as she searched his face for signs of annoyance or anger, but only found a mildly guarded expression.

"I have no qualms about assisting my Lady, but I'd still want to know _why_." He said firmly, his voice faltering only slightly at her attempt to beguile him.

Kalira took a long sip of her wine, and sighed deeply as she dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Kalira, if it please. You needn't call me 'My Lady' when we're alone...And as for why I asked you?" She sighed deeply and raised her cup to her lips and drained the rest of her goblet before finishing her thoughts. "Because, Hound, you're the only person in this dreadful place who doesn't treat me like I'm a monster."

She fell silent, waiting for his response. Instead all she heard was the sound of their breathing falling out of sync with one another... And then, she heard him chuckle. Low at first, barely more than a chortle from the back of his throat, but then it graduated into a howling boom of sardonic glee. Her eyes darted up to his face and saw him smirking with his scars stretching wickedly across his cheek, and then relaxing as his laughter died down.

"And what would a pretty little noble lady know of being a _monster_?" The Hound sneered at her, his eyes full of an undeniable bitterness that made her chest ache. He leaned in, so close that she could smell the sweet wine on his breath. His face was inches from hers as he whispered in a low snarl. "Have you seen fear in their eyes when they looked at you? Seen them wince when you walked by? Have you heard them laughing or insulting you when they thought you weren't near, or worse, when you were? Don't speak to me of being a monster, girl. You know nothing of it." He dismissed her, leaning away and turning back to the table to nurse his wine, his jaw twitching as he seethed with anger. 

"I do." She said in a calm voice while she stared intently at his profile. He paused, his mouth pressed to the lip of his cup as he waited for her to speak again. She went on, willing her voice not to tremble as she continued.

"Whether you may wish to believe it or not I have experienced, and still do experience, all of those things. Half of the people in Raventree Hall fear me or despise me, and perhaps you might have noticed if you weren't always so troubled wondering if they were looking at _you_." 

She saw him tilt his head slightly in her direction, his eyes searching hers deeply. She expected he was looking for tricks, a sign that she was having a go at him or that she was being insincere. She held strong and stared back at him with the most nakedly honest expression she could put forth.

"Why?" He asked, his throat sounding raw and unbridled in a way that made her pulse quicken for reasons she didn't understand.

She smiled at him impishly, and turned back towards the table as she distributed the wine once more. 

"I'm afraid that I'm no where near drunk enough to recount that story right now, Hound. But rest assured, I'm telling it true. I would not lie to you." She said softly, before reaching out to grasp the book on the table and drag it closer to her. "Now, would you like to help me? I'll only be a little disappointed if you say no." 

Kalira watched the Hound slowly pull his gauntlets off one by one before placing them off to the side on the table. His long fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop as he glanced over at her and he spoke more mildly now.

"What would you like me to do?"

* * * * * *

They'd spent the next hour working in tandem, him mashing the dates into a paste and her mixing and kneading the dough. He'd done well with little instruction, working the mortar and pestle perhaps a bit more aggressively than she might have--But he had gotten it done. Kalira had kept the wine flowing, filling a second pitcher up at the cask for them to share. Though he hadn't spoken much except to ask the occasional question about whatever minor task she'd set him on, but she sensed that he'd relaxed greatly. Kalira expected the wine was to credit but she was pleased regardless. 

Finally, with all ingredients mixed and set aside they were ready to construct the item at hand. A Dornish pastry she'd selected from the recipe book. It was a spicy crisp woven treat with a sweet mashed date center, or so she hoped it would turn out to be--Kalira did not fancy herself much of a cook, but she did love trying new things. 

"What next?" The Hound said patiently in-between gulping at his wine. He reached for the pitcher and refilled his glass on his own. At some point, he'd stopped letting Kalira pour for him stating something about how it wasn't proper for a _lady_ to be pouring a dog's wine. She'd corrected him and asked him to call her by her name yet again, and he'd merely grunted in reply. She searched his eyes, looking for signs of haze... She found none, and yet he'd imbibed so many cups of wine any normal man would be drunk off their arse by now. 

_But he's no normal man... _She thought coyly.

"Now, we put it all together." She chirped happily as she began flattening out the largest piece of dough into a long shape. She scooped the date filling onto the raw dough with her wooden spoon, and spread it evenly in the center. 

"This is the hard part," She said as she began laying long strips of dough across one end of the pastry, pinching them against the larger piece to secure them. "I'll need you to help me weave the top bit. Hold this piece here, like this..." She instructed him as she gently grabbed his hand and moved it to where she was holding a strip. She heard his breath catch when she'd touched him, and she looked up to see an uneasy expression on his face. Kalira ignored it, and went on weaving the top. She'd lightly direct him on what pieces to hold for her as she wove the limp dough strands in and out, but soon he was doing it without her direction with his large fingers working in a surprisingly deft manner. 

And then, it was done. Kalira had to admit it wasn't the prettiest treat she'd ever seen, but she felt proud to have made something instead of just having someone make it for her. She dusted the wooden paddle with wheat flour, before gently lifting the unbaked pastry onto it. Kalira wiped her hands onto a wet cloth she'd left on the table, before turning to the Hound and smiling brightly at him.

"Help me put it in, won't you? Over there?" She gestured to where the stone oven was behind them, the fire raging inside of it would cook their creation rather quickly she imagined. 

The Hound turned to follow where she'd pointed at. His entire body went stiff, his eyes locked onto the fiery enclosure. His fists clenched tightly until she could see the whites of his knuckles through his skin.

An uncomfortable feeling washed over her, and she regretted asking him. His fear was tangible, and she expected he didn't want to do what she had asked. Kalira wondered nervously if his scars were burns, and felt like a fool for not realizing so... She quickly backtracked, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she spoke.

"Actually...Could you clear the table? The washbasin for the bowls is in that corner. I'll take care of this." She transitioned as smoothly as she could, quickly lifting the pastry on the paddle to take it over to the roaring fire. She dawdled as long as she could, her cheeks burning with shame. How she could be so blind? She hated herself for putting him in such a position. 

She turned back to the table after tending to the pastry, to find that he had cleared the table of everything except their goblets and the pitcher of wine. Kalira moved to sit back next to him, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. The Hound had filled her cup while she was away, and she was pleased to find he didn't seem agitated at her after her blunderous request. 

"Thank you for helping me...Hound." She said lightly, her mouth twisting up a bit at his cruel nickname. _Time to ask. _Kalira thought to herself.

"Is there something else I can call you? Something more..." Kalira's mind seemed to stall out as she searched for an unoffensive way to say this, though it wasn't easy as she felt her senses dulled by the wine. "Flattering?" She finished with an superfluous giggle. 

The Hound's cheek twitched slightly, and his eyes turned to gaze at her warmly as his thumb grazed over the engraved goblet in his massive palm. 

"You don't like my name?" He mocked her, though she felt no cruelty in his words. In fact, she sensed he was having some fun at her expense in the way that close friends might.

"But it isn't your n-name." She hiccuped softly, tilting her head at him curiously. "I don't like calling you that, no. It sounds like something that unkind people made up." 

He rotated his cup in his hand absentmindedly, swallowing hard before he replied. 

"Sandor...Sandor Clegane." He murmured to her, not meeting her gaze.

Kalira had known his name, of course. She'd known it before he had ever came to Raventree Hall, he was but one of the fiercest warriors in all of Westeros. However, she'd waited his permission to call him by that name. It only seemed right to do so.

"Well met, Sandor Clegane." Kalira said to him playfully, her eyes dancing in the dimly lit room as she sipped at her drink. 

He bowed his head to her slightly in acknowledgement, and the room fell silent for a few moments. Though it wasn't their usual silence, it felt awkward and heavy. 

Kalira searched his face for the source, and found that he was pressing his lips tightly together, his eyes not carrying the same glow they had before.

"What is it?" She asked softly, a bit of bravery struck her as she reached out to brush her fingers against the top of his hand that rest on the table. She saw him swallow hard, and he ducked his head slightly to avoid her gaze.

"It isn't any business of mine..." Sandor rasped quietly, and his fingers twitched nervously under where she was touching him. 

Kalira's throat went dry, and she realized what he spoke of. She wasn't sure why it made her so nervous, he could ask anyone else and find some variation of the truth... Though, she suspected he wouldn't. Sandor Clegane did not seem the type of man to inquire about rumors or other peoples' past.

"You want to know what I was talking about before, don't you? Why everyone hates me?" She whispered, her voice catching slightly every few words as her throat closed up.

She felt his hand turn palm-up beneath hers, and his thumb slid over her delicate fingers. He stroked her knuckles lightly, perhaps in an attempt to comfort her. It did the opposite, in-fact. Her heart thrummed in her chest at his touch, and she wondered how long it had been since a man besides her brother or father had even held her hand. 

"You don't have to speak of it. I've drank too much, I should not have asked." He replied in a husky voice, and Kalira felt a warmth spread over her entire body at his tone. 

Kalira smiled sadly, and gently withdrew her touch from his. She imagined she'd need all of her composure for this. 

"No. I'd rather you hear it from me than a guard, or a tavern whore." She said in a dismal tone. 

Kalira fixed her gaze at his chest, unable to meet his eyes. She took one long last sip of wine for courage, before the words came flowing out of her.

"When I was thirteen, I was to be married to one of Lord Walder Frey's sons. I had bled early as a girl, and as a result my father was considering marriage proposals from a frighteningly young age... The son I was to wed had more than twice my years, and it showed... I hated the sight of him, and I couldn't believe my father would marry me to such a lowly, grubby family and such an old man. But, father needed his help. We'd had a few years of miserable crop yield, and House Blackwood had encountered difficult times. Walder Frey offered a dowry for his son--his son! I'd never heard of such a thing, the offer was so considerable I knew my father would not decline. I wasn't ready to be wed yet, and I dreaded it so. Begged father to change his mind, pleaded with him day and night. It wasn't any use, and the wedding night grew nearer each day. I chose to take matters into my own hands..." 

Kalira swallowed hard, and peeked up to see if Sandor was still listening. He was, of course, and she quickly diverted her eyes again as she mustered the confidence to continue.

"I'd heard a story from the peasant children in town, that there was a witch in the woods not far from Raventree Hall. One evening, I waited for nightfall and snuck out of the keep from my bedroom window. I walked for hours in the dark, into the woods, and you'd think at least once during it all I'd have turned back... But I kept on, and eventually I found her. Ugly old thing, hair like a nest, hooked nose...I'll never forget her face. She knew my name, before I'd even told it to her. 'Kalira Blackwood' She said, 'I've been expecting you, little one...' I asked her if she could help me, stop my marriage to the Frey boy. If she had the power to do something like that. The witch said she could help, said it would be easy...but that there would be a price, of course. Still, she assured me _one way or another, I would get what I wanted..._ I remember how innocent I'd been that night, bringing along a generous pouch of gold expecting that would be how I'd pay her. She'd laughed wickedly at my offer, and told me that gold meant nothing to her. She began collecting things from me, a lock of my hair, a bit of my blood, a scrap of my gown... She chanted dark things I didn't understand, as she threw the pieces of me into the fire. I don't remember much after that...I still can't say what happened, only that the next morning I woke up in the woods and the witch was gone. I was dirty and tired looking as I walked back to the keep... My absence had been noted, and father was furious. I remember asking him hopefully, if I was still to be married to the Frey boy. He assured me I was, and I was so confused. I wondered if the witch had only meant to toy with me, lie to me for her own entertainment... That is, until my moonblood failed to arrive a few days later. My handmaidens told father, and he had the sisters inspect me to see if I was still whole and a maid. He expected I had rutted around behind his back at the age of thirteen, still a child... But he was wrong. I was intact. He had to call off the wedding, as he feared giving Lord Walder Frey a daughter by law who could not produce an heir would be more detrimental than foregoing the dowry he had been offered."

Kalira stopped, and lifted her eyes to meet Sandor's. His face was unreadable now, and she felt her chest tighten. It was likely as she feared, that her story had been too much for him and now he would see her like everyone else. She drew in a long breath before saying her final word.

"So, Sandor...I'm cursed. I can't produce an heir for anyone. I haven't bled since before that night, and I never will again. That was the trade I unknowingly made. Everyone knows the story. Everyone hates me for it. Now you can hate me for it, too." Kalira whispered, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she turned her head away in shame.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sandor**

Sandor awoke sometime before dawn. Though he willed himself to eke out a few more moments of sleep, it seemed to be eluding him. His mind worked slowly as he recounted the prior evening and the things Kalira had told him. 

He'd offer her his handkerchief when she had teared up, but in truth he was too dismayed to do much else. The details of her story had left him feeling cold and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Truly, he'd heard nothing of this tale in the time he'd been there. 

Sandor had extended little pity or comfort in her direction, even in his wine infused cloud he was too disturbed. He'd rounded off the night quickly after that, alleging drowsiness. Her disappointment had been palpable, but Kalira appeared to simply swallow back her sorrow and she insisted he take half of the pastry they'd made with him back to his chambers. He'd agreed, and made his way back to his dungeon-like quarters with the still warm treat wrapped in rough linen. 

He felt a slight pang in his chest now as he remembered how suddenly and uncaring he had left her. She'd told him when he asked, and he reacted exactly how she'd expected. The pang turned to rage as Sandor fumed over his actions. 

_Imagine if you told her your story, the true one, and she reacted that way?_ Sandor thought bitterly, feeling regretful. 

Though it was true their stories were different, his was beyond his control and hers was a foolish choice she'd made as a child, she had clearly been drawn to him because she felt the similarities. And he'd disregarded her just as coldly as any other mindless cunt had in this bleedin' castle. 

Sandor's gaze flickered to the stone window, where the light was just beginning to turn blue with the dawn. It was still early, he could make his way to her chambers before his checking in with Lord Silas. It would give him a chance to apologize for his abrupt departure. He sat up slowly in his stiff bed and as his bleary eyes adjusted to the dark room, he spied the small linen wrapped treat on the edge of his table. Hunger gnawed at him, and Sandor lumbered his way over towards the bundle of cloth. He peeled it back to reveal the pastry, and a smile tugged at his lips softly as he gazed at it. The strips of dough were unevenly and haphazardly crossed, making it clear it was assembled by inexperienced touch. 

Sandor's thoughts flashed back to how she had grabbed his palm without hesitation to instruct him, without even a shadow of fear she'd done so. He thought of the way she touched him just as brazenly later on, her soft fingertips brushing over his hand. And then he remembered how she'd pulled away from him, when he'd tried to caress her hand in return. Sandor's smile faded away and a frown took it's place as he broke off a chunk of the dessert and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his mind a mess. Sandor lowered himself into the rickety wooden chair he'd placed his armor against as he began dressing.

He decided that regardless of her intentions towards him, he'd make amends. Perhaps they couldn't be 'friends' like she likely hoped for, but she had bared her soul to him and he had tucked his tail and run like a scared dog. _Fuck that, _Sandor thought fiercely, determination speeding him up through his arduous dressing process. 

* * * * * *

Sandor found himself standing outside her door a short while later, a wave of nervousness washing over him that he hadn't felt before. He wasted a bit more time, studying her door for a moment. It was a nicer quality wood than his door, larger too. The halls were well lit around her room, unlike his own, something he was glad for. He sighed deeply as he urged himself to get on with it. The only thing worse than speaking to her after having acted so poorly would be for someone to spot him lurking outside her room like he was. Sandor raised a balled fist to her door and knocked firmly, holding his breath while he waited. He heard the sound of soft footsteps, and the door cracked open before him.

Kalira peeked between the gap at him and he noticed she was squinting as if he'd awoken her. 

"Sandor?" She murmured drowsily, opening the door further so that her entire form came into view. 

Sandor's breath rushed out of him at the sight of her. Her hair was an unruly mess and her expression was soft with sleep, but what caught him so unawares was her dress. She was wearing a sleep gown that had been pushed off to one shoulder. It was thin and pale, and he could see nearly every detail of her luscious body through it. The curve of her breasts, her dusky nipples, the way her waist tapered in and then rounded back out at her hips. Luckily for Sandor's composure, she was wearing smallclothes on her lower half beneath the gown. 

Sandor's eyes snapped back up to her face, where she was waiting for an explanation of his presence. And instead, he'd been ravaging her hungrily with his eyes like a starving man.

"I wanted to speak to you, but I hadn't meant to wake you. Go back to bed, my Lady, I'll find you later..." He bowed his head politely, and turned on the heel of his boot slightly to leave her, but he felt her small hand reach out and clasp his wrist to stop him. His eyes flickered back to hers searchingly, and she looked a bit more awake now. 

"It's fine, I would be up soon anyways..." She released her hold on his forearm and drew her arms to her chest, covering her breasts and shivering slightly. "There's a chill out there, can we talk in here?" She pulled her door open a bit wider and gestured for him to come in.

Sandor froze, fear prickling his skin in a way he couldn't ignore. He imagined one of her handmaidens discovering him in her room, with her half dressed like this. Her lord father would assume the worst, no doubt. But he imagined it would look just as bad for a servant to walk by and catch a glimpse of him talking to her in her half-dressed state. With a bit of hesitation, Sandor slowly entered her chambers and pushed the door closed behind him. 

His gaze moved across her quarters slowly, taking it all in. It was easily three times the size of his, and decorated in a way that made the stone walls feel warm instead of cold and unforgiving. Her bed was a large canopy bed, similar to Lord Silas's, and it was stacked with furs and blankets. A grand fireplace held a roaring fire in the corner, and he imagined that was how she could afford to be so scantily dressed without freezing to death. Sandor turned to face her, but she had moved away from the door to sit on the end of her bed, looking at him expectantly. 

And for one of the few times in his life, Sandor Clegane felt shy. Standing in a room far too nice for the likes of him, with a beautiful highborn girl in a revealing gown perched on her bed before him. His fingers trembled slightly, and he willed them to stop as he slowly made his way to stand closer to her. Kalira patted the open space next to her, as if he should sit. His breath sounded ragged in his ears and his pulse thundered loudly as he moved to sit next to her, his large form sank into her feather bed as he lowered himself onto it. He stared straight ahead at the door, not turning to look at her as he attempted to regain his composure. 

Kalira leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. She frowned at him, looking a bit concerned.

"Is everything alright, Sandor? You're acting strange...And you look flush." Kalira said in a worried voice, and she reached towards his face and cupped his good cheek gently. She flipped her palm over and ran the smooth backside of her hand up to his forehead, checking it for warmth. 

Sandor felt dizzied, as if the room was spinning as her delicate hands caressed the unburnt parts of him. It felt wrong in so many ways, but he was intoxicated by her. He shifted his eyes to meet hers, and his lips parted as he admired her sweet face. Her brows were knit together with concern and she was biting her plump lower lip as she fussed over him. Sandor felt his pulse quicken as lewd thoughts of her raced through his mind, and his gaze dropped to her barely covered chest. 

"_Sandor?_" Kalira said once more, fear edging into her voice. She was worried about him, likely that he was ill or fevered. And here he was, sitting on her bed like a twisted scarred lump he was, unspeaking...Committing her teats to memory while he trembled under her touch. 

Gently, he reached up to grab her wrists and pluck her hand from his face. He set it back in her lap, and averted his eyes towards the canopy top of her bed. He cleared his throat softly before he finally replied to her.

"I'm fine, my Lady. I'm not ill, that's not why I'm here. But do you think you c-could...Can you maybe..." He drew in a sharp breath before he turned back to look at her. "Could you cover yourself a bit more. Before we continue." His voice rasped at her in a deep, trembling tone.

Kalira's eyebrows shot up, and her lips curved up impishly as she regarded him.

"Spare me, Sandor Clegane...I'm sure you've seen more in a tavern on any given night." She said with a warm giggle. 

Sandor's nostrils flared and he steadied himself against the sound of her lovely laughter, reminding himself that she was not laughing _at_ him but rather that she was just being playful.

"Aye, I've seen more. A lot more. But it's not the same. So, if you please..." He reached over and grabbed one of her blankets from the far side of her bed, his long arms able to reach almost clear across it. He held it out to her, watching as her eyes bore into his with a fascinated gleam.

Kalira took the blanket from him, but didn't immediately wrap herself in it.

"Why?"

"Why, what?" He muttered quietly.

"Why isn't it the same, if you've seen worse from other girls?" She replied in a curious voice. 

Sandor bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, and then he exhaled loudly out of his nose in frustration. She seemed determined to frustrate him this morning, but he held back as best he could.

"Because, _my lady_, they weren't you." He replied in a clipped tone, and he snatched the blanket from her and billowed it out, wrapping it around her shoulders as best he could without laying his hands on her.

Kalira beamed at him, and she brought a hand up to clutch at the edges of the blanket to hold it together. 

"So what you're saying is, seeing me naked is more profound to you than seeing another woman naked?" She taunted in a sprightly voice.

Sandor sighed deeply, his temper rising as she wore at him.

"Yes. That's what I'm saying...Now I--"

"Why, Sandor. I'm not sure what I should make of that." She said, her wide green eyes sparkling as she smirked at him.

Finally, Sandor snapped. The jokes and jabs eventually wearing his patience thin, he growled at her in a nasty tone.

"I don't give a shite what you make of it. I'm not here for you to tease me with your fuckin' teats. So you can laugh and mock an old dog about the things he craves. _Shut up about it_!" He barked at her, his face twitching as he seethed and shook with anger. His dark, angry eyes searched for hers and he realized she was shrinking back from him in fear.

_Fuck! _He thought to himself, ashamed. He lurched to his feet and moved swiftly from the bed towards her door. _Stupid fucking dog. You come here to apologize to her, and instead you yell at her like a fucking animal. _His hand wrapped around the handle to her door, and before he could pull it open all the way, Kalira's small form darted between him and the door. She threw her weight back onto it, closing it shut firmly.

"Wait!" She panted softly, her arms spread back against the door to block his exit as she gazed up at him. His hand went slack on the handle and fell to his side as he studied her nervous expression. He watched her lick her lips softly, before opening her mouth to speak.

"Please, don't leave. I wasn't teasing you Sandor, I swear it. Nor was I laughing at you...I was...Was..." She stammered quietly as her lips trembled.

Sandor observed her cautiously. The blanket had fallen from her shoulders when she'd ran to stop him from leaving. Her gaze dropped to floor, away from his face. She looked so incredibly nervous and her breath was ragged as if she had just run from Riverrun to the Twins rather than from the end of her bed to the door. 

Sandor sighed deeply, and he brought a gauntlet-clad finger to rest beneath her chin. He tilted her head up towards his, so that she was looking at him again. 

"You were...?" He prompted her firmly, wanting her to finish her thought. 

Sandor watched as her small tongue darted out again to wet her lips, and he found her sparkling green eyes were locked onto his. She drew in a small breath and whispered to him softly.

"I was _flirting_ with you, Sandor." 

He dropped his plated finger from her face suddenly in disbelief. He shook his head gently, and turned away from her as disgust washed over him. He imagined to her, this was funny. To jest and play these games with him. Rage boiled inside him at her false words, and he clenched and unclenched his fists as a lump formed in his throat. He needed to leave. _Needed_ to. Needed to get out of here, away from her. Get somewhere he could let his fury out and bloody his fists against a wall. He moved towards the door, speaking through clenched teeth as he didn't look at her.

"Move." He snarled.

"Sandor, please..." He heard Kalira whimper faintly, "I swear, I'm not lying--"

"I said, **MOVE!**_" _Sandor roared at her fiercely as he turned his hateful gaze to her, the boom of his voice echoing off the walls of her room. He leaned down to yank her away from the door, but before he could grab her wrists, something ethereal happened.

Kalira threw her arms around him and slide her gentle fingers against the back of his neck, tangling in his brown hair as she pulled his face towards hers. She pressed her velvet lips against his mouth roughly and haphazardly, her eyes squeezed shut as she pulled him closer to her. 

Sandor froze.

His mind went blank and his arms went limp at his sides as he tried to imagine any life where this could be real. _It's only a dream,_ he thought numbly, her soft lips working against his hard unmoving ones. He felt her fingers knot in his hair as she pulled at him, urging him to kiss her back. _Just a dream...It's not real..._ Sandor thought to himself as he carefully brought his armored hands up to her waist, dragging her body closer to him. He pulled a gauntlet off one hand, and brought his bare palm to touch the small of her back. He took one of her plush lips into his mouth and sucked on it lightly in a way he'd only witnessed before, but never experienced himself. 

Kalira moaned warmly into his mouth and it felt as if she had melted against him at his touch. Sandor quickly ripped his other gauntlet from his hand, and braced his bare palms against her back and rear as he lifted her off the floor with ease and anchored her against a nearby empty wall. He settled the weight of himself between her thighs and he felt her wrap her legs around his midsection as he ran his enormous hands over her voluptuous body, exploring the flat planes of her stomach and the curve of her arse and waist. He pressed his restrained cock against her warm sex, though it was covered by her smallclothes the heat penetrated through his breeches and he felt like he might spill right then and there. He broke his lips from hers, and trailed them down to the crook of her neck. He tasted the skin there, suckling at it softly and feeling it's smoothness. Kalira sighed his name softly as she squirmed against him, and she sounded just as sweet as she did in all his fantasies. Sandor sought the hem of her gown, slowly dragging it up to her waist as Kalira pressed her body against him, moaning wantonly at his touch. Sandor slid a palm beneath her dress and up towards her breast, aching to touch her there--

A sharp knock at the door broke the spell, and they froze against one another. Kalira swallowed hard and he heard the waver in her voice as she called out.

"W-who is it?" 

"Fayle, my Lady." A voice chirped back. "I'm here with the water for your bath..." 

Sandor's mind raced as he realized they would be found out. No doubt Kalira's handmaiden would tell what she had found, the Hound in a lady's chambers all alone. Her father would know soon, Sandor would have to leave immediately and--

"Just a moment!" Kalira called out softly, and she turned her head to look at the hound, his form still pressed against her as he held her to the wall.

"Put me down, we've got to get you out of here." She whispered to him gently, though Sandor could see the fear in her eyes. 

"How?" He growled softly as he eased her to the floor, eyes darting around her quarters as he searched for an exit. There wasn't another door in her room, merely a window. He tried to imagine if he would be able to scale down a wall in full armor without killing himself...It didn't seem likely. The Hound mused what he was getting so worried about, suddenly. _After all...This was just a dream...Wasn't it?_

He felt Kalira grab his hand suddenly, and pull him to the far side of the room. He watched as she threw an oddly placed rug back, and revealed a wooden door on the floor. She unlatched it and pulled it open, painfully slow to stay quiet. 

Sandor peered inside, and realized there stone steps leading down into the darkness. 

"You have to go. _Now._" Kalira urged him in a nervous tone. "It leads out to the godswood. You can find your way back in from there." 

Sandor walked over to the entrance of the stairs, and turned to look back at Kalira. He felt dazed, in ways he couldn't explain. 

Kalira looked at him helplessly, as if she couldn't understand why he was delaying. 

_Don't worry, little lady. None of it's real. _He thought wryly.

Suddenly, she leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth softly, before pushing him with gentle hands towards the exit. 

"_Go, _Sandor. I'll find you later._" _She whispered to him as she nudged him away.

Sandor felt a warmth spreading in his chest as he slowly descended down the stone stairway, looking back up to see Kalira close the hatch above him. Darkness ensued, and he placed his hands on the walls to steady himself in the blackness as he stumbled down the steps and through the damp tunnels. 

Eventually, Sandor saw a crack of light on the floor, and he staggered towards it warily. There was a door that barred from the side he was on. He lifted the wooden block holding it shut, and found himself in the godswood of Raventree Hall. It was well past dawn now, the sky a soft yellow with the glow of morning light. The enormous dead weirwood tree cast long shadows in the distance, and Sandor disregarded it as he walked quickly back to the front of the keep. 

Servants and commonfolk were bustling around, busy with the morning work. He stood there stiffly, gazing around. This felt more real than Sandor's usual dreams. People were averting their eyes from him, the cold morning air nipped at his face unpleasantly, and he dropped his gaze to his palms. Bare. His gauntlets missing. He'd left them behind...And slowly, it dawned on Sandor. 

_It wasn't a dream._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about twice as long as any of the ones before it. I'm not sure if I'm going to make them longer (like this one) from here on out, but this one just flowed very easily for me. Let me know what you think.

**Kalira**

The day dragged on as Kalira attempted to busy herself, yet all she could do was think of Sandor. She wasn't sure what had come over her to act so brazenly, to throw herself at him in such a way. Kalira knew she had always been one to seek out adventure and new experiences but this was unfamiliar to her in every way. 

Not that she hadn't had her fair share of experiences with men, but none quite so intimate. In fact, she could count on one hand how many boys she'd fancied in her years. She remembered kissing a peasant boy when she was a girl of fourteen, held his hand and the like. But as soon as he had heard about her affliction she never saw him again. Not that her father would have let her take up with someone quite so lowly. It was almost humorous to Kalira in a way, she wasn't desired by any Lord in Westeros because of her lack of childbearing ability...And yet her Lord father still tried to control her every action and whim. It was fruitless, really. She could bring no honor to him by marriage but he still sought to keep her prim and proper, confined to Raventree Hall and out of trouble. 

And then there was that Lannister boy, Ferault. He wasn't a _true_ Lannister really. His mother was Lannister descendant but his Father was the third in line for some house in the North... Kalira couldn't quite remember which. His family had been passing through and stopped to visit for a few days. But in any case, he had really fancied Kalira. He didn't seem to mind the stories people told about her or the cruel jokes. They stayed up all night together once, watching the stars out by the stables. Kalira remembered how they'd lain on a pile of hay together and kissed innocently, she was only sixteen then, but it hadn't gone any further. He was gone not too many days after that and Kalira wrote to him a few times, and he even wrote back. But soon he was betrothed to another and regretfully informed her a few weeks prior to the date. She had sobbed for a fortnight after learning of it.

Kalira sat on the ledge of an open window in the hall outside her chambers, pondering all of this while she neglected the weathered book in her hands. She turned and gazed out across the courtyard that the window faced as she surveyed the servants pruning and gardening the shrubbery. The sun was still in the sky, though it seemed to be well past midday now. She had gone to Sandor's door earlier that morning to speak to him, but he wasn't there. Nor was her brother, Silas, whose door was in plain view of the spot she was sitting in now. 

She felt determined to speak to the Hound about what had transpired this morning. A mixture of fear and excitement churned in her gut as Kalira remembered the events.

The way he'd yelled at her so ferociously, and how she stood him right down only to throw herself at him and kiss him. He hadn't responded at first, stiffened against her like a log instead of embracing her back. But he had warmed up eventually, and she remembered the thrill she felt as he lifted her into the air and pressed her against the wall. The thing that stood out to her the most was then conflicting sensation of him kissing her neck. The warm feeling of his soft lips and tongue against her skin mixed with the harsh, rough feeling of his jagged cheek scraping against her when he moved his mouth. 

_Sinful, really. How good it felt..._ Kalira thought with a smirk, fanning herself with her book. Her thoughts were making her warm all over and she was so consumed by them she nearly missed Silas walking towards his room out of the corner of her eye.

"Silas!" Kalira chirped loudly as she slid off of the window, her skirts nearly snagging with her sudden movement.

Silas whipped around in surprise, his hand on his door as his sapphire colored eyes lit up in surprise. 

"Seven Hells, Kalira. I hadn't even seen you there." He said in a somewhat chiding tone.

Kalira scrunched her nose up at him with disdain. Silas was nearly seven years younger than her, but he so often acted as if she was a child whom he could scold. She suspected that was their father's doing, delegating the task of watching over her to Silas. 

"Didn't mean to frighten you, brother. I've been waiting for you. Where have you been?" She tugged at a lock of brown hair nervously. Truly, what she wanted to ask was if he had _seen _Sandor. But that would be a bit too conspicuous. 

Silas reached up to his curly ash-brown colored mane to sweep it off of his forehead, looking a bit flushed.

"Training. In the yard with the Hound and the other guards." He said with a dimpled grin. 

He was a good looking fellow, her brother. Not quite a tall man, but not short either. He had a square jaw that many servant girls swooned for, and a light well kept beard. He wasn't lean nor bulk, somewhere in-between. As far as Lords went, he would be quite a catch for someone one day. _If he ever stops whoring around, that is._ Kalira thought inwardly. 

"Oh? You're going to have him train you to be a fearsome warrior, are you?" She teased cheekily, narrowing her eyes to look more serious. "What will they call you? 'The Raven'? Doesn't quite have the same intimidating ring to it."

Silas rolled his eyes at her exaggeratedly, but she knew he wasn't truly annoyed with her jabs. Her brother had always been kind to her, and she loved him dearly for it. 

At any rate, Kalira surmised from what he told her that Sandor would likely be in his room by now if they had been training. She imagined him pulling off his armor and his sweat-soaked shirt, bare chested in his room. _Likely drinking._ She mused quietly with a smirk, he seemed to like his drinking. Kalira covertly tried to end the conversation so she could sneak off to find him. 

"Well, I'm sure you're exhausted dearest brother. You'll probably want to rest for the remainder of the evening..." She mused aloud.

But Silas was shaking his head, in fact looking rather energized.

"I only meant to come here to get changed, really. There's a bit of a gathering happening tonight at the inn a few miles outside of the walls of the Keep. I'll be taking a few of the guards with me and we'll be getting good and drunk tonight." He grinned at her wickedly, and Kalira could only assume that he would be whoring away tonight. She could practically read his lewd thoughts. 

A sudden fear struck Kalira, and she realized that he'd want to bring the Hound with him. Father insisted that whenever he left Raventree he have his sworn shield to accompany him.

Jealousy budded in her chest as she imagined Sandor at some grubby inn, full of half-naked tavern whores and everyone drunk as can be. She wondered if he'd partake? Fool around like the rest of them? The thought made her clench her fists suddenly and she couldn't bear the thought. 

It was ridiculous really, it wasn't like he _belonged_ to her. Kalira wasn't even certain she fancied him, rather that he was someone she could vent some of her pent up sexual desires towards--And yet the thought of sharing him with another made her feel green with envy. 

A notion struck her, and before she could stop herself she blurted the words out.

"Can I come?"

Silas had already begun to turn towards his door to open it, and he whipped his head towards her. His eyebrows shot up in shock, and he looked confused.

"_You_ want to come? Kali, you detest half of my guards. And never once have I seen you get drunk in front of a crowd." He said with bewilderment. 

Kalira swallowed, and racked her brain for an explanation. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to know her true intentions with Sandor. It wouldn't be good, that she knew. 

"I uh--I...I don't know Silas. I'm tired of being locked in this prison all day. I want to do something for once. Why is that so astonishing to you?" She retorted a bit defensively, rocking on her heels with her arms crossing behind her back.

Silas snorted derisively and gave her a withering look.

"It's hardly a prison, Kalira. Must you be so grim all of the time? Father wants you to be safe, you know that's what it is..." He rambled on at length about the 'love' their father had for her, and Kalira waited patiently for him to stop before she spoke again.

"I know, I know. You're right." She muttered agreeably, determined not to ruin this for herself. "But Silas, just for one night. Please? Father _did_ say it was okay for me to leave as long as you were with me, remember? I'll be on my best behavior, and you can even have one of your wretched guards watch me if you're so worried." She offered up in a sweet tone. 

Silas sighed deeply, and his lips pressed into a firm line as he looked thoughtful. 

"I'm not exactly overjoyed at the idea of my _sister_ observing me in a tavern all evening..." He said lamely, and his cheeks reddened a bit.

Kalira smirked at him, unable to help herself.

"Baby brother, please. There isn't a person in all of Raventree Hall who isn't completely aware of your..._exploits_." She finished hesitantly. "I won't look, believe me. You'll be the least interesting thing to me during a rare evening out. That I can assure you." 

He paused for a moment before shrugging his broad shoulders at her indifferently.

"Come along then, if you want. We'll be leaving just before dusk so meet us by the stables as soon as you can." 

Kalira cheered with glee and embraced him in a loose hug, before letting go and dancing towards her room.

"See you soon!" She called over her shoulder.

* * * * * *

Less than an hour later, Kalira stood in her room nearly ready. Her handmaiden had helped her dress and do her hair, something Kalira normally didn't request. But this was special, she wanted to look different tonight. She was sure the tavern would be full of peasant girls showing all sorts of skin, and maybe even whores flashing themselves around looking for a drunk buyer...Like, her brother. 

Fayle, her handmaiden, was currently blotting a soft pink powder onto Kalira's cheeks. She had already lightly rimmed her eyes with kohl, and rubbed a cherry onto her lips to tint them red for the evening. Fayle had also lightly curled her long brown hair with a hot poker from the fire, and it felt silkier and looked more kept than normal. 

Kalira stroked the loose soft curl absentmindedly as Fayle laced her into her dress. She had to admit, it was one of her more scanty gowns. The dress was a pale blue color, a corset built into the middle that accentuated her thin waist. The sleeves were long and flowing, a thin material meant for movement rather than sitting stiff in a chair like a proper lady might. It also had a deeper neckline than she was used to. The tops of her breasts were rather clearly visible, and the tighter her handmaiden laced her in, the more severe the cleavage became. 

_Good!_ Kalira thought with a grin, _It'll give him something to look at besides a tavern wench. _

She fidgeted for a moment, sighing softly.

"How much longer?" She whined at her handmaiden, bouncing in her dainty sandals as she waited for her to finish.

"I'm nearly done, my Lady. Don't despair." Fayle chimed quietly as her deft hands worked to lace up the last few bits. "...And, done!"

Kalira quickly scurried over to the mirror on her table, and stood back from it to take herself in. She swallowed hard, twisting and turning to try to consider herself from every angle as Sandor might tonight. 

"You look beautiful, Lady Kalira." Fayle said earnestly, and Kalira truly believed her. Fayle was sweet to her, despite her past.

"Thank you, Fayle...I really must be going, though." She turned to face her loyal handmaiden, who was beaming at her with pride as if Kalira was her creation rather than her Lady. 

The two exited her room in silence, and Kalira waved her hand delicately at her as they parted in opposite ways in the hall. Fayle dipped into a proper curtsy before turning on her heel and hurrying in the other direction. She suspected Fayle was headed to her chambers, and she half-wondered if she should invite her along...But, it was too late. She had already disappeared around the corner, out of sight. 

Kalira sighed softly, and she felt a bit more nervous than she had expected. She lifted her skirts and hurried down the stone stairs towards the stables. 

* * * * * *

As it turns out, Kalira was nearly the last to arrive. All of the men were already saddled and ready standing by at the drawbridge.

"Kalira!" Silas huffed as he brought his horse nearer to her at a slow trot. "We nearly left without you." He reached his palm out to her as if to help her onto his horse.

She screwed her face up in a rather unladylike way at him.

"I can ride my own horse." She reminded him in an insulted tone.

But Silas was already shaking his head dismissively at her. 

"No, I'm not going to wait for you to saddle your horse up and the like. Just come, we're going to miss all of the fun." 

Kalira sighed, quietly noting that Silas sounded like a whiny child in this instant. She took his hand and pushed up on the footholds of the horse's saddle to boost herself up. Perhaps she should have sat sideways like a proper lady, but she just let her dress bunch up in the middle and straddled the horse as she normally would have. Her eyes scanned the group of men waiting by the bridge on horseback, seeking her scarred 'lover'. 

He was easy to pick out, if not by his own large form, then by the size of his enormous coal-black stallion, Stranger. Her eyes flickered over his stoic form, and she was disappointed to find he wasn't looking in even her general direction...Which, couldn't be said for the rest of Silas's guards. She could see them muttering quietly among themselves, their eyes darting up and down her frilly form. She shrunk slightly, wondering if their words were kind or cruel. 

Then, one of the guards said something, and the rest of them exploded in laughter.

_I'm guessing...cruel._ Kalira thought weakly. 

Silas nudged his horse to move and it carried them over to the huddle of men.

"Here's to a night we'll probably forget." Silas quipped as he drove his heel into his horse to send him running and all the men, except Sandor, hooted loudly in response as they took off over the bridge at a brisk pace.

Kalira clutched at Silas's back tightly, suddenly filled with dread.

The landscapes rushed by them as they rode for the inn, though it was dusk now and Kalira could hardly make out much more than the shapes of trees and the occasional stone house. 

She wished it were a silent ride, but the entire way there the men jeered and spouted about tavern girls and what they hoped to find for the night. She listened, to her dismay, about the color hair they preferred and the types of breasts they liked. It wasn't lost on Kalira that if they truly considered her a Lady, they wouldn't be talking like this in front of her. She knew the men held little regard for her due to her past, but she wished they would be a little more discreet in her presence at the very least.

Soon they neared the inn. She could make out the shape of the large wooden building, and there were torches and braziers lit around the outside.

Kalira's jaw dropped slightly, feeling as though Silas had undersold it by calling it a 'gathering'. A crowd flowed in and out of the entrance to the inn, milling around outside. Minstrels were playing songs, people were dancing, singing, and cheering. It looked as if there was food aplenty being sold outside the walls of the inn, and she even spied a few games being played here and there. Her mood brightened quickly as she took in the festivities. 

"What's the occasion?" Kalira asked Silas as he slowed his horse, approaching the stables.

Silas turned his head sharply towards her, twisting around on the horse to look at her with surprise. 

"Hadn't you heard, sister?" He said with a small smile, as if he were excited to share something with her that everyone else seemed to know about. 

She arched her brow at him, titillated. 

"The bastard King is dead. Choked to death at his own wedding, some say. There's word and whisper that he was murdered, but it's a cause for a celebration in any case." Silas said in a jubilant tone. 

Silas carefully dismounted the horse as Kalira sat there in shock, her mind racing.

_The King is dead? And apparently everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew but me..._

She shook her head sharply, and looked down to find Silas waiting impatiently with his hand outstretched. She grasped it, and carefully climbed down off of Silas's mare. 

A stable boy stumbled over at breakneck speed to take the reins from Silas, mumbling 'mi'lord' in a high pitched voice and bowing clumsily. Silas handed him a few coins, and the stable boy set to work taking their horses in. She noticed the Hound was insisting on handling his horse himself, and the small stable boy didn't question him.

Kalira turned away, allowing herself to observe the raucous horde of peasants and commoners before her. They skipped and frolicked around, wine and ale sloshing from their horn mugs as they sang tavern songs. 

_"...Oh, I'm a maid_

_And I'm pure and fair_

_I'll never dance_

_With a hairy bear..."_

The crowd sang the familiar lyrics, but Kalira couldn't help but smile at the thought of the words. 

_I wouldn't mind dancing with a certain hairy bear... _ She thought playfully, her gaze trailing towards where the Hound now stood with his hands clasped together in front of him. He wasn't looking at her, and Kalira knew it must have been deliberate at this point. Still, she couldn't help but marvel at him. 

He was at least a head taller than any other man around. His wispy brown hair had been combed over his scarred cheek, but she could still make out the discolored textured flesh. His expression was neutral, but guarded still. He was also fully armored...Except for his gauntlets, of course. 

Kalira smirked, remembering where she'd tucked them into the drawer in her room after he'd abandoned them on her floor in his haste to leave that morning.

_If he wants them back, he'll have to ask. _She thought to herself.

"The horses are all settled, let's head inside." Silas called out loudly, breaking her from her spell.

Kalira had paused a moment, before trailing after her brother and his men, a bit unnerved that none of them had even glanced back to see if she was following--

Just as she was thinking that, the Hound turned his head to look at her. His eyes raked over her quickly. He held his unclothed hand out, gesturing for Kalira to walk in front of him.

"Come, girl. This is no place for a noblewoman to be prancing around on her own." His rough voice scolded her. 

_Girl?_ She thought with a frown as she scurried ahead of him, lifting her skirts. _Somehow, that's worse than 'my Lady'. _

She stepped over the threshold of the inn, and a waft of smells smacked her in the face. 

Sweat. Sweat, and wine...Sweat, wine, and vomit. 

She wrinkled her nose with distaste, following blindly behind the black cloak of her brothers guard in front of her. It felt hard to breathe in here, and there were bodies shuffling at every turn. She tried to take in the faces and sights around her but she felt a bit dizzy suddenly and Kalira made a misstep and found herself colliding with rather large, unkempt fellow. 

"Watch where you're going, cunt!" The plump man sneered at her, his eyes not meeting hers.

Suddenly, Kalira felt a strong hand steady her from behind, grasping her shoulder tightly as it pulled her back. Sandor pushed ahead of her and grabbed the lardy man by the collar of his shirt. Her mouth fell agape as she watched the Hound yank the man forward, leaning down to snarl at him.

"You watch where _you're_ going, you fat cunt. Or I'll rip that worthless tongue out yer mouth and strangle you with it." The Hound threatened in a bone-chilling voice that even made Kalira take a step back. He shook the man fiercely in his grasp, before throwing him sideways to the ground. The man quickly scrambled to his feet with a terrified look on his face and shoved his way through the crowd as fast as he could. 

The Hound turned his eyes back on Kalira, where she stood trembling. His lips twitched like he wanted to berate her for being so clumsy, but instead he placed a firm but gentle hand on her mid-back, urging her towards where her brother and his guards were waiting ahead.

"The fuck was that?" Silas spluttered loudly over the noisy tavern, peering into the crowd where the petrified man had disappeared. His guards looked otherwise uninterested, and they had already acquired drinking horns full of ale and wine. 

"Nothing, my Lord. A drunk fool who didn't know his place." The Hound replied in an indifferent voice.

Kalira felt faint, and she dropped her gaze to the table...Only one chair left. She bit her lip softly and her cheeks began to burn. This was a disaster already, she was regretting her decision to come along. 

She looked to her left, where the Hound had been just moments before. 

Gone.

She swiveled around, searching the room for him. Though it was crowded it shouldn't be too difficult to spot him by height alone. 

He appeared, fighting through the throngs of people as he held a chair above his head. Sandor trod over to where she was standing, and placed the chair right-side up before her, pulling it out slightly. 

"Thank you...C-clegane." She said a bit too loudly as she lowered herself to sit.

"You hear that? What she called the dog?" One of her least favorite guards, Roldan, shouted out in a mocking tone. "Clegane!" He hooted loudly, as if calling him anything aside from 'Hound' or 'Dog' was a joke.

She ducked her head slightly with embarrassment, peaking over at Sandor sheepishly. He was sitting there looking rather impassive, unbothered by the japes of his fellow guards. 

Kalira caught a glimpse of a tavern wench walking by, and she grabbed her sleeve quickly. 

"Two horns of wine, if you please." She said as politely as she could manage. 

The tavern maid nodded and signaled that she would be right back. Kalira glanced at the group of men to see if they were looking at her, but found that Silas and his guards were chatting up a group of common girls. Kalira angled her body away from the table slightly, and dug a hand into her cleavage to retrieve a coin. She held it up to the light to check the denomination, and found that the Hound was staring at her intently. 

"What?" She said, blushing.

The corner of his mouth wrinkled slightly, and his eyes flickered to her rather exposed chest as he spoke.

"Just wondering what else y'got hidden in there." He mocked her, but for once Kalira saw right through it. He could barely hold her gaze now that they were nearer to each other, his eyes betrayed him as he leered at her breasts.

Kalira bit back a smile as she opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the tavern girl placing the two horns onto the table before them. Kalira brandished the coin and placed it in her palm. The girls expression looked shocked, and she shot a questioning glance at Kalira.

"Keep the rest." Kalira said with a smile, and the tavern girl thanked her and even went so far as to say a blessing at her generosity. 

She began sipping at her wine as she looked over to Sandor. He sat there, unmoving.

"It's for you, you know." Kalira said, pointing at the horn. 

Sandor frowned deeply, glancing between the horn and her. 

"I don't need a Lady to buy drinks for me. I can do it myself." He said harshly, leaning back in his chair. 

"If you don't drink it, I'll give it to one of the guards...Consider it a thanks, for what happened with the man back there." Kalira retorted simply, shrugging her shoulders as if the gesture meant nothing.

The Hound obliged begrudgingly, and reached an enormous hand out to grasp the horn. 

Kalira caught one of the guards staring at them talking, out of the corner of her eye. She snapped her gaze to her lap instead of at the hound.

_Best be more careful..._ She thought cautiously, biting her lip as she brought the horn back to her mouth. 

* * * * * *

Kalira loosened up considerably as the night went on. Or perhaps, the wine loosened her up... Still, she had relaxed a great deal. Losing count of how many mugs of wine she'd had, Kalira found herself conversing with a group of common girls who had been standing not too far from her table. She had grown bored of trying to ignore the hound, and her brother and his guards were all drunk as could be with girls in their laps already. 

"Your gown is so beautiful." One of the common girls chimed, her voice drawling from the wine she'd been drinking. 

"SoOooO beautiful!" A redheaded girl parroted in a shrill voice, reaching out to stroke the sleeve of Kalira's gown.

The rest of the girls gushed and raved about her dress, and she smiled softly to herself, imagining what it would be like to have friends like this. 

"I like your hair." Kalira said enthusiastically to the redheaded girl, flicking the woman's auburn braid with the tip of her finger.

The redhead started talking about how her mother's hair is that color, and her grandmother's hair too...

But Kalira was fading out, her gaze fixed on the dark figure in the corner of the room sitting at her brothers table. Sandor was staring right back at her, observing her with her little group of friends. She had noticed he'd barely drank tonight, possibly only the one cup she had offered him. Kalira thought it odd, as she'd heard a fair bit of gossip about how much the Hound enjoyed his drinking.

Kalira shook her head, clearing him from her thoughts and fixing her attention back on the girls.

"...dance?" One of the girls said while looking at her, and Kalira realized she had asked her a question.

"Sorry, what?" She replied.

"I said, do you want to come with us to dance?" The blonde girl, Melanie, repeated patiently for her.

"Dance?" Kalira said with a queer questioning tone. "Dance like, how?" 

Kalira had been taught how to dance in a courtly fashion, as most Lady's learn how to, but she wasn't exactly sure how to dance with other women.

"Come on!" One of the girls grabbed her hand with laughter bubbling in her tone, and they all ran towards the center of the room where a minstrel was playing an upbeat tune that Kalira didn't recognize. People were frolicking haphazardly to the music, emboldened by their drunkenness she imagined. 

"Fuck it, why not!" Kalira cried out in a joyous voice, and she linked hands with all the girls as they pranced and bounced wildly in a circle to the music. 

People cheered in the crowd as they joined the fray, and Kalira heard men whooping and yelling out lewd things as the girls danced together. Perhaps she should have been afraid, but she wasn't. She felt safe in their presence. 

They drank and danced together as the songs faded into each other, and before long a few of the girls had begun linking up with other men. Kalira started to feel alone, searching for a familiar female face. She'd ended up more in the corner of the room than the center, it was darker here...

She turned, and found that a young man was peering at her from a few feet away. He smiled at her, and Kalira felt herself blush.

He was rather a good looking man, bronzed skin and thick black hair. He was eyeing her in an unmistakable way. She offered him a fleeting smile back, and she turned to walk back towards her brothers table. 

A hand grabbed her wrist, and she turned back wide eyed to see the handsome fellow peering back at her.

"Where are you hurrying off to?" He asked as he pulled her closer to him. 

Kalira squirmed against his grasp, fear piercing her drunken haze.

"Let me go--"

"You're pretty, prettiest girl in the whole inn." He murmured, bending down to look at her, much too close for comfort. 

Kalira could smell the stench of wine on his hot breath. 

"Leave me alone." She said as she turned her head away from him, still trying to pull her wrist from his ever-tightening grip. He pressed her against a table behind her, locking her in place.

She felt his other hand grasp her chin tightly, yanking her face back towards his.

"Relax, girl...I don't bite." He said in a sweet tone that for some reason still filled her with dread. "...Unless, that's what you like." He murmured, leaning in closer as if he meant to kiss her, his fingers clenching her face tightly and holding her still.

Kalira squeezed her eyes shut as she struggled against him, feeling helpless as she felt his breath whooshing over her nose and lips--

She felt the mans hand rip away from her face and wrist, jerking her forward. Her eyes snapped open in surprise and she caught herself from falling by grasping a nearby chair. She looked around wildly, searching for the menacing figure that had just been grabbing at her. 

Kalira froze in shock. Not three feet away from her, the Hound was viciously choking the man, holding him by just his throat against a wall. 

Sandor's face was nightmarish, contorted in fury. His teeth bared in a frightening display as he growled all manners of profanities at the man he was suffocating. 

_Where did he even come from?_ Kalira wondered, she was so far from her brother's table now. She looked around helplessly, no one had noticed what was transpiring...Or, they cared not to get involved.

Her gaze worriedly flickered back to where the Hound was shaking and squeezing at the throat of her assailant. 

"Sandor, stop!" She hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling at him.

He snarled at her touch wordlessly, his murderous gaze on the man before him.

_He's going to fucking kill him._ Kalira realized, her blood running cold. 

She pulled at his arm as hard as she possibly could, and she felt tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed and begged him to stop. 

The depraved man was gasping, his eyes glassing over with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. His face was a disturbing shade of purple, contrasting the angry red skin of Sandor's powerful hands at his throat. 

"Please, STOP!" She cried out as loudly as she could, tears and snot streaming down her face as she collapsed at his feet, unable to pull at him any longer. She felt weak, and drunk. But mostly, afraid. "Stop..." She whimpered once more, hunched over on the floor as her dress pooled around her. 

Vaguely, she heard the sound of the man's boots hitting the floor. She woefully glanced up, her eyes hazy with drink and tears. 

He'd not dead, she realized, staring at his shocked and disorientated face. He was crumbled in a heap on the floor, panting loudly a few feet away from her. Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted into the air. Faces and lights blurred by her as she was carried, and the noise all blended together into a sound that just made her feel even sicker. 

Cold air hit her face, and it was abruptly darker. 

Kalira felt herself being lowered to the ground, wet grass beneath her. She hugged her knees, breathing heavily. 

Sandor crouched before her, glaring at her in the darkness. He'd carried her outside of the inn, she realized. He'd dropped her some forty feet away from the entrance, where the light didn't quite reach. It was deserted now, where hours before it had been overrun with people.

"The fuck were you thinking? Stupid girl." He growled lowly at her, and she imagined he was giving her a dirty look. But her eyes hadn't adjusted from the light of the inn, and she could only vaguely make out a scowl. 

Kalira's head swirled, and she worried she might be sick in that moment. She doubled over onto the ground, her fingers digging into the blades of grass as she tried to catch her breath. She retched quietly, but nothing came up. She felt a firm hand touch her back gently, rubbing in soft circular motions as she dry heaved. 

She sat there a moment in the darkness, bent over and not willing to look at him just yet. She listened for the sound of his breathing, strong and even against her own ragged gasps. Shame burned at her cheeks, imagining what he must think of her for acting so carelessly. 

Slowly, she sat back on her heels. Sandor was still crouched in front of her, and she could more clearly see his face now. He looked...worried? His angry expression had softened in something of a concerned grimace, his eyes searching her almost helplessly. 

"I'm s-sorry." Kalira rasped softly, and she realized for the first time in hours how dry her throat felt. How thirsty she suddenly was. 

As if he was reading her thoughts, he grasped something from his waist and popped the top of it off. He leaned closer, and she could feel his cool breath on her face. She didn't smell even a trace of wine, which puzzled her. Sandor raised his rough thick palm to rest behind her head, poising a flask at her lips with his other hand in a way so delicate she wouldn't have believed it possible for him had she not felt it herself. 

He held her there tenderly, both of them sitting in the grass and dirt while she sipped feebly at the water he was giving her. 

_Strange. Water, instead of wine in his wine skin?_ She thought silently, before gently pulling back from the mouth of the flask. 

"Thank you." She whispered softly, and his hand withdrew from her as he resealed the vessel and brought it back to his waist to secure it again. 

Kalira tilted her head back, and looked up into the night sky. Hundreds of beautiful stars speckled the clear sky tonight, but she could hardly focus on them. Really, she just wanted to look anywhere but him right now. She'd truly humiliated herself tonight.

"What were you _thinking?_" Sandor asked her sternly, once more. 

She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze from the sky back to him. 

"I was thinking... For once in my life, I could be normal. Experience something new. To not have to act all proper, or be the daughter of a lord, or even be a cursed girl. That I could just...Live." She said in a detached voice, feeling emptier than she had before she'd come here tonight. 

Sandor huffed quietly in the dark, and she saw the whites of his teeth catch light as he opened his mouth to talk.

"That doesn't explain...this." He gestured to her dress with his index finger dismissively. 

"What, my dress?" She asked, confused.

"All of it." He growled quietly again, seeming a bit angered. "If you wanted to be normal, why the _fuck_ did you come to a shit inn with your teats almost out and with your face and hair all made up?"

Kalira bit her lip to keep from smiling, though she wasn't sure he'd be able to even see it in the dim light. 

"Oh, that...That um..." Kalira demurred, gathering the courage. 

"...That was for you." She said sheepishly.

She vaguely made out his one good eyebrow shooting up.

"For me?" He questioned, gruffly. Surprise edging at his tone.

"Uh-huh. For you."

He was silent for a long moment. So long, Kalira wondered if he was expecting her to speak next.

"That's a load of shite." He said finally. "Why in Seven Hells would you get yourself all fancied up for the likes of me?" 

Kalira felt brave for a moment, hearing a hint of insecurity in his voice. She shuffled closer to him on her knees, likely ruining her stupid dress, until she was as close to him as she could be without climbing into his lap. She leaned forward and gently cupped his scarred cheek in the dark with one hand. He cringed under her touch, but she responded by gently running her thumb over the grooves and dips of his scarred cheek and jaw. She heard his breathing grow ragged as she caressed him gingerly. 

"Have you forgotten so quickly what happened this morning?" She murmured in a sultry voice, trailing her fingertips down his ruined cheek to the edge of his lips and chin. 

He didn't respond, but she felt the muscles in his face twitching under her hand. 

She exploited his silence, taking his lack of protest to mean that this was okay. She traced her fingers back along his jaw, up towards his damaged ear. She'd seen hints of it through his hair before, but she was curious now how badly it was burned.

He grabbed her hand suddenly tearing it off of his face, his breath exploding out of him as he clutched her tiny palm in his enormous one. Kalira expected him to swat it away, or call her stupid again and tell her to fuck off.

What he did instead shocked her. He brought it to his lips and gently brushed his mouth against the back of her hand, as if he was feeling her skin there. 

Kalira yearned to touch him again, to throw herself on top of him right here out in the grass and ask him to take her maidenhead. Desire burned in her belly as he brushed his nose and lips against her hand, but she pushed back her urges and let him explore. 

He sighed softly, and he pulled back from her, releasing her palm. 

"We've been gone too long. Someone will have noticed by now." He murmured sternly, his voice hardening as if he was rebuilding his armor against her. The tender moment gone. 

Kalira fought back her disappointment, nodding. 

Sandor rose to his feet, and gently grasped her wrist to pull her up with him. He regarded Kalira for a moment, steadying her before he released her. He turned to walk back towards the light of the inn.

Kalira grabbed him quickly, pulling him back towards her.

"Sandor, wait."

He turned slightly, his eyes searching hers guardedly. 

"Thank you...For saving me in there. You're a good man." She said, genuinely meaning it.

She expected him to ignore her, or maybe just grunt in acknowledgement. Instead, his mouth twisted slightly as if he tasted something unpleasant.

"You know, girl. I could tell you that it's because you're the Lady of the house that I serve...Or that because that's the kind of man I am, saving frightened girls from bad men...But do you want to know the truth?" He whispered in an unnerving voice, stepping closer to her. 

She stood firm, not backing up. She knew his games by now. 

"The truth, little Lady, well the truth isn't as pretty and honorable as all that." His voice tensed, as if he was revealing to her some dark secret. "The truth is that I was just a dog, guarding his meal." He plucked a curled lock of her hair off of her shoulder, and rubbed the silky strands between his coarse fingers.

"There's nothing noble about it. I didn't think. I wasn't afraid for you. All I saw was some bastard laying his dirty hands all over the girl I want. The girl I'll never have." His voice rasped, as if he was pained by his own words.

She reached up and caught his hand stroking her hair, clutching it gently. 

"But you can. You can have me." She whispered, her heart thrumming in her chest at his words as she clutched his palm to her chest affectionately.

His forlorn expression turned cruel, and he pulled his hand from hers slowly but firmly. He turned away from her, his nostrils flaring.

"You really are a stupid girl if you think that." 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little more complicated as Kalira and Sandor share their first sexual experience together.

**Sandor**

It had been a few days since the evening at the inn, and Sandor had been trying his best to keep Kalira at a distance. Ever since that night she had been trying, not so subtly, to find herself alone with him. He often found her sitting by the window outside her brother's door in the morning when Sandor went there, or wandering the same halls he frequented on patrol. It was easy enough to avoid speaking with her out in the open but it seemed the more he evaded her, the harder she tried. 

Two evenings in a row Lady Kalira had sent servant girls with handwritten notes asking him to pay her a visit at her chambers. Sandor had considered sending a reply explaining why he shouldn't, but instead he'd merely received the scrolls and kept to his room. He winced mentally sometimes, thinking of her waiting for him expectantly when he had no intention of accepting her invitations. 

_It's better this way._ He had thought bitterly. _She doesn't understand the consequences._

Sandor buried himself into his work, often training late in the yard or escorting Lord Silas for his evening 'adventures'. 

He thought of her though. Quite often while he was patrolling he found himself thinking of the night at the inn. That eve was branded into his mind because of her. Not because of the fact he'd nearly killed a man, that was nothing new. Nor because she had looked so heart-stoppingly beautiful, he thought about that in the confines of his room when he took himself in his hand and sought release. 

No, it wasn't any of those things that Sandor thought of when he went through his dull routines. The memory he just couldn't shake was one of them, kneeling in the grass together in the cool night air. He'd cussed her foolishness with his usual venom and called her names. She hadn't cried, or cowered, or yelled back at him like before. Instead, she had moved closer to him and unabashedly caressed his ruined face. He'd sat there in the darkness, willing himself not to push her away as her tender touch met his ravaged skin. Sandor had expected her to cringe away suddenly, realizing in disgust her mistake. But Kalira hadn't. In-fact, she'd leaned in closer until he could smell her wine-drenched breath, and her curious fingers trailed past his cheek towards what was left of his ear. 

He'd stopped her then, taking her tiny palm into his and nestling the top of her hand against his lips and indulging himself for a moment. Sandor knew she wasn't thinking clearly, knew this wasn't true. Her braveness spawned from her drunken state and that realization was enough to wake him from the spell her touch had placed him under. Sandor remembered the way she'd grabbed him and thanked him. He should have just nodded, accepted her words and acknowledged her gratitude. But he couldn't. The words stuck in his throat, and what came out instead was revoltingly vulnerable. 

He'd confessed he wanted her, the weakness in his words masked with a snarling tone. He'd meant to scare her with his admission. Make her realize the depravity in his mind when he looked at her, tell her that this wasn't just a fucking game to him like it was to her. 

But Kalira had clutched his hand eagerly to her nearly exposed chest, blurting out words he refused to believe. Couldn't believe. 

And yet it all stuck in his mind, and he played the scene again and again until his head throbbed. It was all too confusing for Sandor and there was too much risk involved for him to ask her for an explanation. So instead he tried in vain to bury it. 

Sandor found himself drinking more lately, drowning his lewd and pitiful thoughts in a sea of wine most nights to dull the pain. 

Which is exactly what he was doing one evening, laying in his bed with a skin of wine in clutched in his palm, when he heard a faint rap at his door. 

Air rushed out of his nostrils in annoyance as he expected it was one of Kalira's handmaiden's again. Sandor considered just leaving her there at the door. He grew tired of speaking to weary girls who trembled at the sight of him. But, curiosity brought him to his feet as he crossed the room to investigate the source of the knock. He paused a moment, hand on the doorknob as he glanced down at himself. He was just in his trousers, his chest bare. Sandor shifted slightly to angle his body out of view as he cracked the door open to peer into the hall.

His heart sank at the sight of the woman before him.

For it wasn't a servant or a handmaiden sent to do the Lady's bidding, but Kalira herself. She smiled softly as their eyes met, her green eyes sparkling in a way Sandor perceived as mischievous. She wasn't made up or bound in a tight gown as she had been the other night. Her silky hair was swept over one shoulder, curling at the ends. Her dress was loose fitting and an earthy shade of green that reminded him of the forest. She looked wholesome, rosy cheeked and pure...Which, made Sandor feel even dirtier and lower just looking at her. 

"Hello. Pardon, for bothering you...I'm sure you've had a long day. But I was hoping we might speak for a moment?" She said sweetly, tilting her head to the side.

Sandor peered past her into the dark hall that was illuminated only by the torch she was holding, leaning out slightly to look either direction.

_Had she come here...Alone?_

"The fuck do you think you're doing, coming to this part of the castle at night?" He growled at her softly, feeling tense. "Do you have any idea what some of the men who live here would do if they found you here by yourself?"

Kalira glanced around, not looking as nervous as she should. She shrugged her small shoulders slightly as a coy smile curved at her lips.

"If you're quite so worried about it, perhaps you'd best let me in...So you can protect me from the evil men." She said in a lascivious tone that made the hair on Sandor's neck stand up. 

"And why are you so sure? That I'm not one of the evil men?" He asked as he gripped the width of the door tightly in his palm.

Sandor watched as she rolled her emerald eyes at him exaggeratedly, stepping closer to the door impatiently.

"You're not half as wicked as you pretend to be, Sandor. Now, let me in or I'll strip down to my smallclothes and start running up and down the halls until some deviant guard snatches me." 

Sandor's nostrils flared. Somewhat driven by her dismissive statement about his temperament, but mostly at her vile attempt at humor. The mental picture alone sent his gut churning in a rage.

With a begrudging sigh, he pulled the door open and backed away from it slightly so that she could step inside. His room was dark, lit only by the light of the moon shining through his window. But as Kalira moved inside it was illuminated by her torch. Sandor crossed his muscled arms over his broad chest to cover the bareness of it somewhat. 

He watched as Kalira peered around his dilapidated chambers. 

"Seven Hells, don't you have candles? It's dark in here." She whimpered softly, and her breath trembled in a way that he imagined was her shivering. "And cold." She whispered.

Sandor paused before uncrossing his arms and cautiously placing his hand beneath hers on the torch she was holding. Her eyes followed him as he pulled it from her grasp and held it away from himself as far as he could manage. Sweat beaded at his forehead, and he kept his gaze away from the burning flame in his hand. He moved towards the fireplace on the far side of his room that he'd never used, and probably never would have. He crouched in front of it and lifted the torch to touch the logs that the previous resident of his room had left in the hearth. 

Sandor rose to his feet and backed up slowly as he watched the flames spread across the logs, growing and crawling across the wood as they consumed the brittle bark. The smell of the smoke made his jaw clench, and he turned away from the fire to set Kalira's torch into an unused sconce on the wall. 

The sound of wood scraping across the stone floor made him jerk his gaze behind him swiftly, and he saw Kalira dragging a dusty chair from the corner of the room towards his chair. He watched as she swept the cobwebs and dirt from the seat, and plunked herself into it gracelessly. She met his gaze and firmly patted the chair next to her, inviting him to sit in his own seat. 

Sandor swallowed harshly, and turned instead towards his bed where he'd discarded his shirt earlier. He grasped the rough linen and began pulling it over his head, feeling exposed. 

He heard Kalira make what sounded like a huff of protest as he brought the shirt down over his midriff, and he bunched the sleeves up to his elbows in a way that was comfortable to him. He turned to face her again, and found she had been observing him.

"What?" He snapped, though he couldn't bring himself to sound as irritated as he was pretending to be. In fact, Sandor felt uneasy with her in his room. A nobly Lady sitting in his dungeon-like quarters watching him dress was unnerving. 

She smiled impishly at him, and her gaze flickered away politely. She began rooting through some kind of satchel she'd brought with her as she spoke.

"Nothing...I suppose I'd forgotten how pleasing it is to admire you with your shirt off." She said, not looking at him as she pulled two wine-skins out of her bag.

He ignored her comments, although he felt his cheeks flush at her words, and cleared his throat as he moved to sit in the chair near her.

"What are those?" He asked pointedly, his one good brow raised. 

Kalira wordlessly grabbed one of the flasks from her lap and tossed it the short distance between them, and Sandor snatched it from the air. He shook it slightly, feeling its weight. It was nearly full to the brim, and larger than any of his skins. He unstopped it, and brought the rim of it to his nose to inhale the scent. 

It smelled spicy, expensive, and stronger than the swill they usually served in the guard's dining area. 

"Dornish?" He asked gruffly, before taking a sip. 

Mid-drink, he glanced at her in a sidelong manner and noticed she was also imbibing from the other skin. She lowered it from her lips and looked back at him.

"Yes. But also, I have something else for you..." She said as she reached into her bag to retrieve whatever else it was she had. 

Sandor watched as she produced his gauntlets from her satchel, and held them out to him. His lips twitched softly as he remembered discarding them on her floor that morning, when they'd embraced in her room. He shook himself from his reverie, and gave her a curt nod of thanks as he gently pulled them from her grasp and set them in his lap. 

They drank in silence for a few minutes, and Sandor's tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he stared into the flames of the fire some ten feet ahead of them.

_Say something._ He thought, clenching his jaw. She had come to him, after all, claiming she had something she wanted to speak of. 

Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"So, what was it then? That you wanted to speak about?" He asked begrudgingly, annoyed that she was so firm in her silence. 

Kalira smirked into the mouth of her wine-skin, and she pulled it away for a moment so she could reply.

"Oh...Um, actually Sandor...There wasn't ever actually anything I specifically wanted to speak of. I just said that so you would let me in." She said a bit shyly, and Sandor found that she wouldn't meet his gaze now. 

"Why?" He growled quietly, irritated at her deception. 

He watched as she shrugged. Her expression was uncomfortable and slightly sad.

"You've avoided me, since that night. I sent you notes, followed you around, waited for you in places I knew you'd be..." She whispered in a pained voice that made Sandor's heart thud heavily in his chest, hurting for her. 

But he couldn't find words. He didn't know what to say, what to feel. This was foreign to him in every way and he didn't understand why she felt the need to be near him. Most people did their best to stay far away, rather than seek out his company. 

When he didn't speak, Kalira went on again.

"I know I behaved in ways unbecoming of a Lady that night, and that's why you're keeping me at a distance. I'm sorry, for any trouble I caused you..." Her voice faltered at the end. 

Sandor turned in his chair slightly to face her more, swallowing hard.

"That's not why I'm avoiding you, silly girl." He murmured in a hoarse voice, watching as she lifted her gaze to his. 

Her eyes searched his and her lush lips were turned down into a confused frown.

"Why then?" 

Sandor paused, and reached up to rake a calloused palm over his face. He rubbed his closed eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he sighed deeply.

"You don't understand your own feelings. Whatever the reason is that you tell yourself you want to be around me, you're mistaken. However you see me in your head, you're lying to yourself. I'm not some fucking handsome knight from your dreams come to sweep you off your feet. I'm not even a good man. I'm a depraved, heartless old dog. I have more blood on my hands than you could ever imagine. How many lives do you think I've taken, little girl? Ten? A hundred? Whatever you can imagine, double it...And then double it again. I've cut down women and children too, did you know that?" Sandor rasped out the question, but didn't let her answer as he took a deep breath before he continued on.

"I imagine you didn't. Perhaps you would have found another less damnable man to play your games with. I suppose that's what this all is for you, a fun game. To see how you can twist me, is that it? Or maybe you're tired of being here, locked up in your fancy castle. Maybe you think I'm a means to an end? I don't have any fucking idea, really, what it is you want with me. But know this, girl..."

Sandor fixed his furious eyes on her, heated by his own words. She was staring back stoically, her lips firmly pressed together in a displeased manner. He leaned in towards her and spoke through clenched teeth.

"I'm not anyone's hero. Especially not yours. So get that out of your fucking head, before you get us both in trouble. The last thing I need is your bloody father getting wind that anything is going on here. The Lannister's have a bounty on my head, and this is likely one of the last places in all of fucking Westeros I can find work without having someone turn me over to those yellow-haired cunts. So stop this shite." Sandor breathed heavily as the words poured out of him, uncontrollably. 

"...Stop trying to unravel me. Because it's working." He whispered in a rough, but almost pleading voice. And he meant it. He couldn't handle it anymore. Any of it. Her seductive comments and looks, the ways she had touched him at the inn, that inexplicable morning where she'd thrown herself at him in her bedroom, but least of all he couldn't handle the sad way she was looking at him right now. 

Kalira stared at him, looking hurt. She let her gaze slip to her lap, and Sandor studied her tensely as his chest heaved from his rant. She didn't speak for a while, before her heard her mumble something softly.

"Okay." 

"Okay?" He repeated, his brows furrowing.

"Okay, as in, I'll stop. I'll leave you alone. I won't touch you or kiss you, or tell you how much I want you. We don't even have to speak anymore, save for when we're in front of other people. I'll treat you like I treat any of the other guards. I swear it." 

Sandor flinched at her words, feeling a bit stung. But he nodded solemnly, and managed to choke out one gruff word.

"Good." 

"...But, I have a condition." Kalira added, her voice sounding a bit stronger now.

Sandor's pulse quickened slightly and he sensed she was up to something. His eyes scanned her expression, searching for signs of mischief. 

"And what would that be?" He asked with a sigh, feeling dread creep up on him.

Sandor watched as Kalira rose from her chair, and shifted to stand in front of him. Slowly, she bunched her skirts up in her palms and crawled into his lap so that her knees were on either side of him, straddling him like a horse. 

Sandor froze, feeling her weight settle into his groin and her arms slide around his neck as she nestled her bottom against him. Her face was inches from his, her breath sweet with wine as she leaned in to touch the tip of her nose to his. 

"Make love to me." She breathed sweetly, nuzzling her nose against his as she stroked the back of his head with her fingers. "Just for tonight. Just this once, show me what it feels like to have a man want me. I know you do, no matter how hard you fight it. I want you just as badly... And, I can accept that we can't keep going on like this. I can live with that. But what I can't live with is never knowing what it would have been like...What you would have felt like..." Kalira brushed her mouth against his softly, cutting off her words as she slipped a hand between them to cup his groin in her palm. 

Sandor held back a groan, and his hands clenched at his side as she palmed his cock through his trousers. He felt himself trembling at her touch, and he hated it. Hated the fact he was acting like a timid virgin boy instead of a man. He hated that she was toying with him like this still, after she'd sworn to stop. His anger swirled with arousal in his mind and he bit out harsh words.

"You have no idea what you're doing. What the words you're speaking truly mean. You said no more fucking games..." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off of his cock angrily.

"I'm not playing games Sandor." Kalira whispered to him, her head ducked slightly in shame. 

Sandor's nostrils flared, but he kept his composure as best he could before moving his finger to lift her chin so that her gaze met his. 

"Tell it true. You want this? You want me?" He rasped in a hopeful voice that sickened him. He despised how weak he was with her, but he held his breath as he waited for her response.

Kalira bit her lower lip in a nervous manner.

"I want you. I mean it." She raised a shaking hand up to clutch his ragged cheek, and Sandor's breath rushed out of him in shock. 

"You're a maid, aren't you?" He whispered, eyes searching hers for the truth. He felt his heart drop as she nodded her head yes in response.

_Fuck..._ Sandor thought inwardly, disappointment surging through him.

"Then we can't. I won't be the one to take that from you. You'll have a Lord husband some day, and he'll expect that you be pure." Sandor turned his head away from her, trying to ignore the way his cock strained in his breeches against her arse. 

Kalira grabbed his other cheek and pulled his gaze back towards her, gripping his face on both sides as she stared deeply into his eyes. 

"Sandor, _please_. That isn't going to happen to me. You know my...affliction. What man of noble birth would want me, truly? Do you even know how old I am?" She said in a despairing voice.

Sandor felt the muscles in his cheeks twitching at her touch, unnerved. But he simply shook his head in response. 

"I'm twenty-eight, Sandor. Most noble women are married at nearly half my age. I'm more likely to rot here in this dusty old keep than I am to ever be married. I've been hoping and waiting for someone like you to come into my life..." She leaned in and pressed her forehead to his, and Sandor closed his eyes as he listened to her breath grow uneven. 

"_Please._"

Sandor swallowed hard and tried to imagine it for a moment. Laying her down on his meager bed and ruining her. The thought made him sick, deflowering a Lady in his wretched dungeon of a room as if she were a whore rather than a woman of noble birth. He pictured himself leaned over her, thrusting into her as she stared at his ugly face. Sandor knew she'd regret it and feared he'd see her beautiful face turn up in disgust as she took in the sight of the hideous beast that was fucking her.

He sighed deeply, and he shook his head as he pulled back from her, opening his eyes.

Kalira looked despondent, but she didn't move from his lap. In fact, she moved her hand to the back of his head and stroked his hair again softly.

"You won't make love to me because you don't want to take my maidenhead? That's it?" She was frowning slightly at him.

"Aye, that's it." He murmured to her, hating himself for not just taking her as she pleased. 

_Just being a good dog, that's all_. Sandor thought to himself angrily.

Sandor watched as Kalira seemed to think for a moment before she leaned towards his good ear, and he felt her lips brush against it. Sandor shivered slightly, feeling her hot breath there. 

"We could do...Other things." She purred at him, and he felt her move her arse in gentle motions against his cock. 

Sandor heard himself groan against his will, and his hand moved to her lower back to still her movements. He felt his pulse quicken at her suggestion, and his mouth ran dry. 

Kalira flicked her tongue against his good ear, and sucked on the lobe softly. He felt her rake her teeth against it, and Sandor's hips bucked against her involuntarily as his breath hissed out. He heard her moan at his sudden thrust, and he nearly came undone.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck..._ Sandor thought with panic as he felt himself losing control. He ached to just throw her on the bed and fuck her, fuck her like the dog he was and take her without a care. But he couldn't ravage her like that. She was too good for that. 

Sandor slid his hand up her back to touch the soft waves of her hair. He stroked his palm through her locks and pulled away from the kisses she was pressing to his ear. He caught her gaze and swallowed harshly.

"Is that what you want? To do...other things." He repeated her words, unsure of what that truly entailed. 

Kalira leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to his mouth with a sigh.

"No. I want much more than that, but if it's all I can have then that's what I'll take." She said in a playful tone as she began sucking at his bottom lip.

Sandor could have laughed, had he not been so aroused. She spoke as if he was something to desire, rather than her. Instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and his fingers twitched anxiously. 

"...You're sure?" He mumbled faintly against her mouth.

"I want you Sandor. Of that, I'm sure. I've wanted you since the day I met you." She said before she kissed him deeper, intensely as if she were trying to show him how much she truly wanted him.

That was enough for him, and he kissed her back just as passionately. He groaned as her tongue darted into his mouth and flicked against his lightly.

_If she only knew how many times I'd jerked my cock to thoughts of her._ He though bitterly, before he gently wrapped one arm around her waist and the other beneath her rear. He stood from his chair, lifting her with him as he carried her to his modest bed. He laid her down gently, and stood there for a moment gazing at her before he began pulling his shirt over his head. He tossed it to the floor, pausing at the next step.

Fear set in, and Sandor froze as he considered what he should do next.

_Take my trousers off? Her dress? Seven fucking hells, I'm awful at this._ He cursed himself silently as the air hung heavy with indecision as he stared at his palms. 

He heard the rustling of clothing, and his gaze snapped up to see Kalira kneeling in his bed, tossing her dress to the floor.

His mouth fell open in shock as he took in the sight of her.

She was naked except for her smallclothes covering her nether area. She was sitting back on her haunches, her breasts exposed to him. The dim light of the flickering fire cast shadows over her creamy skin, but he could still make out every detail of her body. Her nipples were small and tight, a dusky pink shade that was darker than he expected but still just as lovely. Her stomach was flat and her waist was thin, but her hips curved out sharply where her full arse began. 

Sandor's knees felt weak, and his cock throbbed as it strained against his breeches. 

"You're _beautiful_." He rasped, his hands trembling at his sides as he raked his eyes over her again and again. 

He heard Kalira giggle softly, and his eyes found hers. She was smiling nervously, her cheeks flushed. He watched as her gaze dropped to his groin, and then flickered back up to him.

"Thank you..." She whispered. "That looks uncomfortable. Come, let me help you." She said in a kittenish voice, outstretching her hand in a way that indicated he should come closer. 

Sandor moved to the edge of the bed, staring down at her with lust filled eyes as she brought her hands to the laces of his trousers. He noticed that despite her sultry words, she was shaking slightly too. He felt a little better that he wasn't alone in that.

Kalira slowly unlaced his breeches, pausing as she slid the last string out of place. She reached up to the hem of his pants and pulled them gently down his thighs. His thick cock sprang forth from the restraint of his clothes, jutting out directly before her. Sandor couldn't remember the last time he was ever this hard, probably never. He burned with embarrassment, watching her eyes graze over his exposed manhood. Her lips were parted in shock, and he stilled as he waited for her reaction.

Sandor watched as she lifted a timid hand to wrap around his girth, squeezing it gently. Sandor's breath caught loudly, and a contorted moan passed through his lips at her touch. 

Kalira's head snapped up to look at him, and she was grinning at him in a way that made his heart feel sore. He stilled as she slowly began sliding her grasp up and down the length of him, struggling to keep his composure.

"It's so thick." Kalira murmured softly, tightening her grip. And Sandor knew she wasn't just saying that, her fingers didn't meet as they curled around his cock. Her motions were inexperienced, but he loved that. In fact, it made it feel all that much better to him knowing he was the first man she'd ever touched like this. He gazed at her as she stroked him languidly, and as her grip neared the head of his cock he saw beads of pre-cum forming at the tip. 

Kalira made a pleased noise at the sight of it and Sandor's eyes widened as she leaned in to run her tongue across the swollen head, before pulling it into her mouth to suck on it softly.

Sandor groaned loudly, and his hand came up to fist in her hair as his eyes rolled back in his head. He pressed against her mouth, unable to control himself as he felt her tongue and lips working at the tip of his cock. As if she were encouraged by his gentle thrust, she took him deeper and began bobbing her head up and down half of his length. 

Sandor tightened his grip in his hair and closed his eyes as the waves of pleasure took him, grunts and groans escaping his mouth with every sweep of her tongue and lips against him. He felt a warmth growing in his lower stomach as she quickened her pace, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. With every ounce of self control he could muster, Sandor gently pulled back away from her. His cock throbbed as it hovered in front of her face, slick with her spit and his arousal. 

She looked up at him suddenly, a hurt expression on her face.

"Did that not feel good?" She whispered meekly, her gaze flickering between his swollen cock and his face.

Sandor stroked her hair lightly before bringing his palm around to cup her face.

"It felt too good, actually." He murmured in a lustful voice, running the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. "But I'd like to touch you now." 

Kalira pressed a gentle kiss to the thumb he had poised at her lips, before she moved off of the bed to stand in front of him. Sandor watched as she slowly untied the smallclothes covering her lower half. With one final tug at the laces, they fell to the floor. 

Sandor heard himself growl in a low, primal tone.

"_Fucking Seven Hells, _Kalira...You're perfect." 

He found his confidence then, driven by the need to touch her. Sandor wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up again with his hands beneath her arse. He turned so that his back was to the bed, before lowering them both down onto it so that she was straddling him again like before. He leaned back against the pillows, his teeth clenched as he held back a groan. 

Without their clothes between them he could feel the heat of her sex pressed against his cock now. Sandor shifted slightly so that his shaft wasn't pressed against her bare cunt, but that it would nestle between the cheeks of her arse instead. 

Sandor was so tall that even in this position that he was still eye-to-eye with her. He wished, for once, that he was shorter so that her teats were poised in front of his face instead. 

Kalira leaned in and kissed him softly, and Sandor felt her tongue run slickly across the seam of his mouth. He parted his lips and she deepened the kiss, her tongue flicking against his as she pressed her full breasts against his bare chest. 

Sandor heard his breath catch at the sensation of her nipples scraping against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to place a palm on each of side of her arse. He thrust gently against her, squeezing her rear together as he stroked his cock with her full backside. He heard her moan sweetly, and her wetness pooled at the base of his shaft. Sandor reached a hand between them as he sucked at her lower lip, still thrusting against her. He brushed his fingertips against the soft curls of her cunt, searching for the 'spot' he only had heard of before. He fumbled around for a moment, until he felt Kalira's body jerk against him and she gasped against his mouth.

Sandor grinned triumphantly into their kiss and slowly began rubbing the small nub in circular motions, and Kalira squirmed against him wildly.

"S-sandor...That feels..." 

He pulled back from her to study her beautiful face as he stroked her clit, watching her eyes squeeze shut and her expression contorting. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips as she panted softly. 

_Beautiful._ He thought, his heart aching at the sight of the raw expression on her face. He was sure he'd never feel a woman writhing against him like this, moaning his name sweetly. It was all too good for a mangy old dog like him, but he burned the image of her into his brain all the same. 

Sandor kept rubbing her gently, carefully reading her reactions as she bucked against his hand or cried out for him. He leaned his head down to where her breasts were. With her back arched in pleasure her tight nipples were inches from his lips. Sandor brushed his lips against one of the soft buds and took it into his mouth, raising his free hand to cup and rub her other breast while he still rubbed at her with the other. 

She whimpered softly, pressing harder against his hand between her legs and rubbing herself against him in a way that made his cock throb against her rear. Sandor pushed back his own feelings of need and focused on her, circling his tongue around her nipple and sucking at it softly.

Kalira moaned airily and Sandor felt her slip a hand behind his head and knot her fingers in his hair, pushing his mouth harder against her teat as he sucked at her. He heard her breath quicken and she was writhing against him wantonly. Sandor moved his thumb for a moment to wet it between the lips of her pussy, before sliding it back up to her nub and rubbing it quicker than he had before. He heard her gasp for breath and he released her nipple from his mouth, dragging his lips up the curve of her breast to the nape of her neck. He kissed her there like he had a fortnight ago in her bedroom, sucking at her skin softly. 

Sandor felt the slickness against his hand as Kalira ground against his touch, and he locked his free hand around her lower back as he held her in place. He doubled down on his pace, his breath ragged against her neck as he rubbed at her hard and fast. 

Kalira moaned wordlessly, clutching onto him so tightly that he felt her nails digging into his skin. She was stiffening against him, and Sandor brought his lips to her ear as he growled a command at her.

"_Come for me." _

_"Sandor..."_ Kalira whimpered back, and Sandor felt her body shudder as she cried out something incomprehensible. A surge of wetness coated his hand as he rode out the waves of her ecstasy with her, pinning her tightly against him. He slowed his rubbing motions to a stop as she came down off of her orgasm, slipping his damp palm from between them he placed it on her lower back. 

She collapsed against him, pressing her forehead to his as her breath sputtered wildly. Sandor ran his hand up and down her back softly, stroking her skin as she caught her breath. 

"That...That felt incredible." She whispered in a breathy giggle, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. 

Sandor smiled inwardly, feeling a sense of pride that he couldn't explain.

"Did it please m'lady?" He murmured against her lips with a hint of a smile. 

Kalira pulled back and smacked him on the shoulder playfully.

"You did _not_ just call me your Lady while I'm naked on top of you!" She exclaimed, still breathless but with a horrified look on her flushed face. 

The corner of Sandor's mouth turned up in a lighthearted smile, and he'd all but forgotten about his own arousal in the tender moment until he felt Kalira shift against him. 

She wiggled slightly, moving her rear back against his cock. 

He sighed longingly, but Sandor was pleased just to have satisfied her. It was more than enough for him tonight. 

Kalira, apparently, didn't feel the same. Sandor groaned as she lifted herself slightly off of his lap to push his cock from behind her to between them. She reached down and ran her fingertips across the beads of excitement that formed at the head. 

Sandor reached out and caught her hand, stopping her.

"You don't have to do that." He said firmly, swallowing hard as he fought back his desire. "I can take care of it myself, later."

Kalira raised her brows at him, pursing her lips slightly. 

"Do you really believe I'm going to leave you here, like this?" She said in a tender voice, as she leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. 

Then, Sandor felt her pull the pillows from behind his head. He fell back flat onto his bed suddenly. He leaned up onto his elbows, his eyes studying her with confusion. 

Kalira had shifted so that she could lay his rock-hard cock flat against his stomach, and lowered herself on top of it slowly. Sandor watched in silent amazement as she pressed the lips of her cunt against the middle of shaft, but not into her. She began sliding back and forth slowly on top of him, rubbing the core of her slick sex up and down his aching member as she stroked him with her lips. He feared for a moment that she might take him inside her, but she continued to rub herself against him in a way that made his toes curl. 

Sandor's head fell back onto the bed and his eyes rolled back as he felt his balls tightening. The sight alone was enough to send him over the edge, the lips of her pure cunt rubbing against his length. A groan escaped his mouth and Sandor brought his shaking hands to grasp her full hips, and he guided her roughly as he dragged her pussy back and forth over himself, his cock squeezed between them. He felt her wetness again, and he wondered with amazement if she was aroused by this.

"Does that feel good?" Kalira whispered softly as he continued to drag her haphazardly back and forth against his cock. 

"So. Fucking. Good." Sandor bit out in a strained voice, his legs stiffening and his balls tightening as he felt his release nearing. 

He opened his eyes then, looking up at her with heavily lidded admiration one last time to remember this moment. She looked lovely, her hair a wild mess. Her breasts were bouncing as he rocked her back and forth against him, grinding his shaft between her lips. But what sent him over the edge wasn't her perfect teats or the sight of his cock being rubbed between her legs. It was the way she was looking at him. Her eyes were locked onto his face, and he wondered if she'd been staring at him this whole time. Her affectionate gaze slipped over him warmly, and Sandor dug his fingers into her hips and pressed against her sharply. His vision clouded as he began to peak, and the pleasure was more intense than anything he'd ever felt. His entire form was tense, the muscles in his chest straining as he held her tight. Her silky lips brushed over his head once more, and he growled her name in a rough voice as he came. His cock pulsed between her legs in waves, as his thick white cum shot out onto his stomach in long ropes. He heard her gasp faintly at the sight of his release.

Sandor's head fell back onto the bed as he tried to catch his breath. His hands dropped from her waist. He closed his eyes for a moment, and swallowed the lump that was in his throat. He felt strange now, with the heat of the passion gone. Sandor felt shy to look at her, so he kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as his broad chest heaved in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

"H-hand me my shirt, from the ground." He said hoarsely, and he winced at the lack of kindness in his voice. Here he was, laying with her pressed on top of him nude and he couldn't even speak to her nicely. _Stupid fucking dog._ He growled at himself in his head. 

He felt her lean slightly to the side while still on top of him, and come back up. She pushed the rough fabric into his hand wordlessly, and Sandor leaned up one elbow. He carefully wrapped the shirt around his hand and used it to wipe up the mess he'd left all over himself. 

"Eugh." Kalira said, and he glanced up to see her wrinkling her nose.

Sandor met her gaze and shrugged one shoulder slightly. 

"I'll wash it."

Once he'd cleaned himself, he pulled Kalira down on top of him and held her for a moment. She rolled off to one side, and laid her head on his chest as she hitched her leg up around his waist. Her fingers buried into his sweat-soaked chest hair, and she pecked a kiss onto his cheek softly.

Sandor smiled feebly, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her despite their close contact. He'd all but fucked her, and yet he couldn't look the woman in the eyes. _Pathetic._ He thought bitterly. 

Kalira grabbed his cheek suddenly and pulled his face to look towards her.

She was looking at him elatedly, and a bit expectantly. 

"What is it?" He said in the most gentle voice he could manage, reaching down to stroke her hair.

"How was I?" She asked sweetly, and the innocence of her question made his heart ache. 

Sandor laid there, racking his brain for a few moments as he searched for words. He had nothing to compare it to, but it was the most pleasurable experience of his thirty-six years so far. A wry smile formed on his lips, as he thought of the perfect answer. He wrapped a lock of her hair around his fingers, and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head as he whispered to her.

"Best I've ever had." 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really appreciated all the encouraging comments I've gotten so far, you guys are amazing and I hope you like the direction I'm taking the story. Thank you for being so kind. <3

**Kalira**

Kalira was awoken in the middle of the night by Sandor rolling over on top of her. The breath in her lungs whooshed out instantly as his enormous weight settled on top of her, and she gasped loudly for air as she thumped at his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. He merely snored in response. _Seven Hells, he's so heavy. _Kalira thought with mixed admiration and panic. She wriggled and shoved at him with all her might, until she was able free herself enough to slip out from under him. Kalira found herself at the edge of the bed after escaping his weight, and she rose to her feet as she turned to look down at his sleeping form. 

He was laying on his front with his entire backside exposed to her. They hadn't bothered re-dressing after...Whatever it was they had done earlier. Kalira couldn't even quite remember falling asleep. But with her head on Sandor's warm chest and his massive arms wrapped around her she wasn't surprised that she'd dozed so swiftly.

Kalira tilted her head slightly, studying him. His brown hair was a wavy mess, and it covered most of his face in his current position. The muscles on his back were standing out from the way his arms were laid, and Kalira couldn't help but admire how broad he was there. He had a nice rear too, she didn't mind noticing, all muscled and tight. She'd have thought that his arms would be the most impressive part of his body given his history with swordplay, but his legs were every bit as defined and thick. She especially liked the downy layer of hair that started at the tops of his thighs and ran down the length of his legs in varying amounts of density.

And suddenly, Kalira felt sad for a moment despite her ogling. She realized this would likely be the last time she would see him like this, all bare and open to her. She'd promised him that this would be it, one lustful experience and he wouldn't be bothered by her any more.

She knelt back onto the edge of the bed, and leaned over him as carefully as she could. Her fingers curled gently around the locks of hair that covered his face, sweeping it back so that she could see him. Her heart nearly broke at the sight.

Sandor's head was turned in such a way that the unburned side of his face was visible to her. His expression was so serene that he looked unlike himself. Without his usual scowl he seemed years younger. 

She couldn't help but drag her fingertips down from his hair to cup his cheek once more before she went. Her fingers trailing over the planes of his peaceful face. And as if driven by her tender touch, his lips parted ever so slightly and the corner of his mouth slowly turned up into a sleepy smile. 

Kalira's eyes flooded with tears, and an ugly choked sob escaped her throat so suddenly that it startled even her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she let the tears flow, gently pulling her hand from his face to wrap her arms around her chest. She clutched at her sides so tightly it was as if she were holding herself together while the sobs racked her body, riding out the abrupt wave of emotion that had struck her until she was merely sniffling. The realization of the bond they had shared, and that they wouldn't share it again, hurt more than she had anticipated. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so, in truth. Although Kalira had come to see Sandor as something of a kindred spirit it felt silly to weep over a man she had only spent one night with.

She wiped at her tear stained cheeks roughly before she leaned down to place a featherlight kiss onto his shoulder. Kalira rose from his bed quietly, as not to wake him, and decided it was time to get dressed. She picked up her smallclothes first, and studied them for a moment. Despite her lips still quivering from her outburst of tears, Kalira smiled slightly as a devious thought crossed her mind. 

_Might as well give him something to commemorate this evening... _

Kalira moved to his dresser, and laid the small bit of her clothing out directly in the center. She couldn't help but notice the shattered bits of mirror sprawled across the top of the dresser. A frown formed at her lips, wondering if he'd broken it intentionally because he didn't like what he saw in it. Kalira shook her head suddenly, regaining her focus as she pushed the dark thoughts out of her mind. She glanced around, searching out a quill and ink. Spotting them on his desk, she walked over with quiet footsteps to sit in the chair before it.

She grasped the meager quill in her palm, and dipped it in the ink. She opened the drawer of the desk and found a stack of parchment paper, snagging one and placing it in front of her. Kalira thrummed her fingertips on his desk as she tried to think of something meaningful to say.

_I'll miss you? Thanks for almost fucking me? _She thought sarcastically, but with a faint sigh she poised the quill and began to write whatever words flowed out of her in that moment.

_Sandor,_

_I'm sorry to have left in the night like this, _ _but I feel it's easier this way._

_Our night together meant more to me than you could ever know_

_and the only regret I have is that I did not come to you sooner._

_I've left you something to remember me by._

_Thank you, for everything._

_Yours,_

_Kalira_

She pinched the bridge of her nose tightly to hold back any more tears as she sprinkled some of the pounce in a nearby jar over the ink to help it dry quicker. Kalira rose from the chair and silently moved back to his dresser where she'd left her smallclothes for him, and she tucked the note underneath them. A selfish thought entered her mind, and she pulled gently at the drawers in front of her. Inside, she saw worn shirts that looked similar to the one he'd been wearing the night before. She plucked one from the drawer, and tucked it under her arm. _He won't notice one missing. _Kalira thought with a small smile. Suddenly she heard a shifting noise behind her.

Kalira turned back to face Sandor's bed, her pulse thrumming as she feared he might be awake. But he'd simply rolled onto his side, his back to her now. Kalira glanced at the window, and noticed the sky was beginning to fade to a grey-blue color rather than the black of night. It would be dawn soon, and she'd best be getting back to her chambers before her absence was noted--If, that is, it hadn't already been noted.

She retrieved her dress from his bedside and slipped into it quickly and quietly. Grabbing her satchel from the floor where she'd discarded it the night before as well. Kalira turned towards his door, but not before shooting a longing glance back at her sleeping lover. Tears threatened at her eyes once more, and she pulled the door open soundlessly as she slipped out into the black hall.

* * * * *

Days went by and Kalira had only seen Sandor briefly in passing. If they came face to face, she would acknowledge him with a polite greeting. More often than not he merely nodded in regard, only occasionally murmuring something back. It pained her more than she had expected, and Kalira wished to just grab him and ask how he could be so indifferent. Her entire world had been turned upside-down by that night, and she ached for him. And not just in an physical manner. Sandor had been tender with her in a way she couldn't forget, no matter how badly she wanted to. 

She'd resorted to wearing his shirt at night to stave away the sleeplessness that now plagued her. Despite the fact it had been a clean shirt, it still smelled of Sandor. So the stolen token kept her company, and she longed in the dark silence each night that he was with her.

A few days after their encounter, it dawned on Kalira that she'd never seen Sandor in anything other than his smallclothes or his armor. She hadn't recalled seeing even a plain tunic anywhere in his room, which lead her to wonder if he even had one. She imagined not. He'd been found not far from Raventree with little more than his saddlebags and his horse. Kalira imagined it mustn't be all that comfortable to wear heavy armor all the time, even during his down time. Slowly, an idea formed in her head.

_Perhaps I'm not allowed to speak to him in a familiar way, or seduce him...But he never forbade gift-giving. _Kalira thought impishly. 

So, Kalira brought his shirt to the clothier of Raventree Hall and requested that he construct a custom tunic to fit the measurements of the shirt. The tailor was more than happy to make it, and Kalira tipped him a few silver stags to prioritize the project. 

The waiting proved painful, as Kalira was truly looking for any excuse to have some kind of interaction with Sandor at this point. She'd promised him and she didn't mean to break that promise. But even the infamously cruel Hound couldn't wordlessly ignore a spontaneous gift from a woman he'd nearly made love to. 

Finally, three long days later, the clothier had finished his tunic. 

Kalira ran her fingers over the exquisite black leather in awe, noting the clean seams and the softness of the hide. It was a long sleeve style, with thick laces running up the middle of the chest to tie it up. Kalira had requested that it be of the highest quality, but not to appear garish. The Hound didn't seem like one to garnish his outfits with baubles and precious metals so she had asked that the amount of buckles and accents were kept to a minimum. That said, it was obvious even to untrained eye it was a quality piece. 

"Many thanks Gharet, it's lovely." Kalira chirped at the elderly gentleman as she stroked her fingers over the soot black leather, pulling the tunic into her arms. 

The old man smiled kindly at her, and nodded his head curtly with a look of pride on his face.

"It was my pleasure, M'lady. A gift for your brother, I suppose?" He asked with mild curiosity, his aged eyes scanning her face. 

Kalira bit the corner of her lip, holding back a smirk.

"Something like that." She said sweetly, giving him a polite nod as she turned to leave. 

"Do visit again, M'lady. Always a joy to assist a most noble house." 

* * * * *

Kalira quickly found her way to the depths of Sandor's chambers somehow without a torch. It was sad to say that she knew his door by heart now, having taken too many opportunities to walk by it though she had no business down there. 

She hesitated by the entrance of his quarters, suddenly feeling as though she hadn't thought this through. Kalira considered just leaning the tunic against the wall, rapping on his door, and running away...But what if he wasn't in there? Any of the wretched guards who lived in nearby chambers could snag it before Sandor even returned, and then he'd never know she left him anything. The thought made her pulse race, this was her only idea for how to get him to speak to her.

But how could she know if he was there without knocking first? 

Swallowing hard, Kalira tucked the weighty tunic underneath her arm and leaned in as carefully as she could. Pressing the hollow of her ear lightly to the cold wooden door, she closed her eyes as she listened for indication of movement in the room. 

Her prying ears were met with some sort of rhythmic slapping sound she didn't recognize, and another noise she fully recognized--the faint sound of Sandor's groans.

Kalira jumped back from the door in shock, accidentally knocking her fist against it as she jolted away. The tunic slipped from under her arm and the metal pieces on the front clattered against the floor loudly in the dark hallway.

She immediately dropped to her knees and felt around for tunic in the dim of his hall as her heartbeat thundered in her head. Kalira felt as though she might be sick, betrayal washing over her.

_He's fucking someone in there. In the same bed that we were in..._

Her fingers closed around the leathery edge of the fabric, and as she was pulling it to her lap. Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Perhaps she should have been panicked, running back to her room... But the burden of the quickly budding misery kept her kneeling in front of his chambers, clutching his present to her chest to comfort herself as silent tears ran down her cheeks. 

Suddenly Sandor's door jerked open, and the faint light of candles in his room lit up his silhouette and washed a soft glow over her form.

Kalira watched from her knees as his head snap back and forth to peer either way down the corridor, before his gaze settled on her. She could barely make out the expression on his face, but it looked unpleasant to say the least. 

"Kalira? What the _fuck_ are you doing outside of my room? And why in Seven Hells are you on the bloody floor?" He growled in his usual terrifying tone.

He was shirtless and just in his trousers. Kalira noticed, with despair, that the laces were undone on his breeches and she could see the familiar dusky curls peeking out just above his groin. He was holding them up on one side with a fisted palm as if they had been pulled on quickly. With an indignant swipe at her cheek, she brushed away her tears. Normally she would have let him be angry, taken it and held back her own words. But not this time. 

"Apparently I'm listening to you fuck another woman." She hissed in a warbling voice, unable to conceal her pain. Her hands clenched tightly around the freshly oiled leather of his tunic and she wished she was strong enough to rip it apart in this instance.

A thick silence hung in the air for a few brief moments.

"...What?" Sandor spat out finally, feigning bewilderment Kalira figured.

Wavering slightly, Kalira rose to her feet. When Sandor reached a hand out to steady her she smacked his palm away with as much venom as she could muster. 

"_Here._" Kalira snarled at him as she whipped the heavy leather tunic at him with all her force. "I was coming to give you this. I hope you enjoy your_ evening_."

She watched as Sandor caught the gift in a fumbling manner, still holding up his trousers with one hand, before she turned to storm off down the hall.

"Kalira, fucking wait. I--"

"Fuck off, Sandor." She half-sobbed over her shoulder, longing for the solitude of her room so she could let out the grief welling inside her.

The sound of heavy footsteps thudding behind her made her pick up her pace, but she quickly felt a strong calloused hand wrap around her arm and drag her to a halt.

"Let me _go._" 

"_No_." His voice growled lowly through gritted teeth. "Will you just fucking listen to me?"

A sob erupted from her throat as she pushed at his tightening grip, crying out again demanding that he let her go.

"Someones going to hear you bellowing and find us like this." Sandor rasped as Kalira beat her fist at his iron grasp, thrashing wildly. "Fuck this." He muttered, and Kalira felt herself being lifted and thrown over his shoulder as if she were a doll rather than a person. 

Kalira punched him in the back as she wriggled against his shoulder. "You're a disgusting bastard. Let me fucking go." 

Her squirms and insults were ignored as Sandor ducked into his still open doorway. He nudged the tunic on the floor gently into the room with his foot, having abandoned it to chase her. Sandor placed his palm flat back against the door, closing it behind him as he slid her off of his shoulder and onto the ground in front of him.

Quickly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to face his bed. Jabbing a thick finger in the direction of his sleeping area, he spoke to her in a rough tone.

"See? Empty. I'm not _fucking_ anyone." 

Kalira felt chagrined suddenly as her eyes swept over his small quarters. He was right, _empty._ No whores lurking in any of the dark corners and certainly none on his bed. The only thing on his bed were her smallclothes that she had left for him, which she thought odd. She dipped her head in shame, grateful the dim light of his room would conceal her swiftly reddening cheeks. She felt Sandor's thumb and forefinger grasp her chin and lightly tug her face back towards him.

He was looking at her searchingly, his brows knit in confusion. Annoyed, obviously, but not quite as angry as she'd have expected. Hells, she'd beat at him with her fists and called him a flurry of names after _spying_ on him. Clearly he was waiting for her explanation.

Kalira bit her lip harshly until it stung, and feeling like she deserved the pain afterwards.

"I heard...Sounds." She murmured in a faint voice. Her gaze flickered to his breeches, which had sagged down even further in the tussle and were hanging low on his hips--entirely unlaced. "And your trousers..."

Sandor's eyes glanced down at his pants, and he dropped his hand from her face so that he could tug them back up as he was nearly on display at this point.

"Sounds?" He muttered, repeating her words distractedly as he tugged at the laces to try and conceal himself a bit better.

"Sounds. Like the ones you made when we were...intimate." She blushed thoroughly, hating how childish that sounded but they technically hadn't actually _fucked._

Slowly, a smile curved at Sandor's lips. He shook his head as he raised his eyes back up to meet hers. He drew an enormous palm up to his bare chest, and he rubbed at it thoughtfully.

"Kalira..." His voice sounded gravelly and a bit wry. 

Her heart was still pounding from the mess of emotions she had felt, and she was surprised she managed to even croak out a single word.

"What?" 

He looked uncomfortable now, and his eyes focused on something behind her as he spoke. 

"The sounds you heard..." He sucked in a deep breath, seeming bothered that he even had to explain this to her. "Buggering hells. I was jerking off." He growled, ducking his head slightly so that his hair hung in his face. 

Kalira felt her mouth bow in surprise. It was obvious, really. She was so blinded by her envy that she hadn't even considered it. 

"You were--" Kalira searched for less crass words. "--pleasuring yourself?" 

Sandor winced, as if her saying _pleasuring _sounded worse than _jerking off ._

"Aye. Or at least I was trying." He paused, eyes flickering over to gauge her reaction. "Until a certain Lady decided to eavesdrop on me and make a commotion." 

Kalira felt herself grin softly, her amusement and relief overshadowing her embarrassment. 

"Glad you think it's funny." He sneered at her, breaking his gaze so that he could kneel down and pick up the tunic off of the ground. He seemed to welcome the subject change. "What's this, then?" 

"A present."

He lifted his good brow at her. 

"For me?"

She nodded, watching his fingers graze over the fine leather in a touch that seemed too gentle for his massive hands. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"You said you'd stop this. You swore it." He mumbled quietly as he fiddled with one of the buckles.

Kalira swallowed too, feeling the weight of his words. He didn't want her here, he was reminding her of her words.

"I know. I swear, I never meant to disturb you or listen in on your..." Her brow furrowed. "Activities."

Sandor made a face at her.

Kalira kept on, though, ignoring his displeased expression.

"I was only going to leave it at your door. I'd knock and run away...But then I considered that I should make sure you were here before I did that. So I listened for a moment and...heard..."

Sandor raised his thick fingertips to her mouth and brushed her lips to stop her words, as if he couldn't bear to hear her describe his actions any more.

"Why, though? Why are you giving me a gift?" His hand fell away from her mouth as he studied her.

"To thank you."

"Thank me?" He half-mocked as he turned the tunic over in his palms and held it up to his chest to assess it. "It wasn't exactly one sided, Kalira. What we did was just as much for you as it was for me--How did you get the measurements right?" He asked suddenly, directing the conversation back towards her gift to him.

Kalira blushed a deep shade of crimson.

"I may have stol--borrowed. Borrowed one of your shirts. I meant only to wear it at first, but then I thought I would have something made for you. You never wear anything comfortable, you're always in your armor..."

The corner of Sandor's mouth twitched softly, and he leaned away to set the tunic on a nearby chair before refocusing on her. He moved closer to, his enormous form only inches away. 

Kalira realized that standing this close she had to lean her head all the way back to look at his face as she only came up to his mid torso. 

She shuddered as he slipped one hand behind her to cup her head, fingers twining in her locks. 

"You're such a strange girl." He murmured to her in a warm voice.

Kalira couldn't help but smile. Perhaps his words weren't the kindest, but he said them in a way that made her feel that he wasn't quite so angry with her anymore. 

"I am..." She kept her eyes locked with his, admiring the soft brown color and the way the corner of his eyes crinkled. Somehow, Sandor looked more appealing to her each time she saw him. She hardly noticed his scars anymore although she was sure he would never believe that. And he certainly looked good right now, all bare chested and nearly up against her. Kalira dared to touch him back, reaching out to run her fingertips against the light fluff of hair below his navel like she had at the waterfall all those weeks ago. Kalira watched his reaction with fascination as he bit his lip slowly, raking his teeth over the pillowy flesh. "I do have a question, though." She added.

Sandor's eyes were lidded slightly now, his grip tightening in her hair as she trailed her fingers lower. He made a soft noise of acknowledgement at her query. 

"You said you were _trying_ to...touch yourself." She omitted his choice of words and substituted in her own. "Does that mean you didn't finish?" Kalira asked as she tilted her head innocently, her curious hand slipping into the waist of his half-laced breeches.

Sandor stiffened, not answering her. 

She brushed her fingers through the coarse hair that she found there for a moment, and she didn't break eye contact as she flattened her palm against him and moved her hand deeper. Then, she felt it. Like a hot thick bar of iron. Her fingers curled around the shaft and she squeezed him firmly in her hand. 

Sandor's breath hissed out of him slowly as his eyelids fluttered shut. He leaned into her touch, and his hand was knotted so tightly in her hair now that it nearly hurt. 

But Kalira hardly noticed the pain. She tugged at the laces of his breeches to give herself some room to move, and she began stroking him languidly in his pants. Though it wasn't easy. Sandor was endowed, to say the least, and his girth made it difficult to wrap her lithe fingers around him.

Still it seemed to be working, he was groaning lowly at her touch and moving against her palm in a way that was encouraging to Kalira. She squeezed him a bit tighter and moved her fisted hand up over the head of his cock. 

Sandor's form jerked against her and his groan came out louder and more ragged. 

_He liked that._ She thought with a small smirk. 

Kalira studied his face this time as she slipped her grasp over the tip of his member again, watching him shudder with pleasure. She began stroking just the head now, and it was made easier by the fluids that were leaking there. Her slicked fist pumped him firmly in that spot, over and over again. 

Sandor's head was leaned back as he growled and gasped for breath, his face was harsh and full of tension as if he was close to his release already. Strands of his wavy brown hair clung to his forehead and cheeks from his sweat. His eyes were so narrow they were practically slits, and his brows were furrowed in concentration.

_He's beautiful._ She thought, her heart squeezing at the raw expression on his face. He would have hated it if she said that to him, probably would have told her to fuck off. But she couldn't help but think it. Kalira felt her own desire pooling in her smallclothes, but she ignored it and focused on the rhythm of her hand around him. She could feel him swelling in her grasp, and his form was so rigid now that she was sure he would explode any moment.

Kalira dropped her gaze from his face down to his chest, noticing his nipples. They were flat and slightly lighter than her own, not to mention surrounded by hair. She leaned forward and slowly dragged her lips against one of them, flicking her tongue out experimentally.

"_Fuck, Kalira..._" Sandor groaned deeply, and she noticed that his knees nearly buckled. He was close now. 

"_Cum for me_." Kalira demanded of him in a sultry voice, repeating the words he'd said to her on their first night. He growled with pleasure, thrusting into her hand. She stroked him hard and fast, his fluids had leaked onto her hand so much that she had to tighten her grip to keep her hand from slipping off. 

Sandor's entire body trembled as he roared out his release, pulling on her hair as a garbled attempt at her name escaped his lips once more and Kalira felt the hot splashes pulsing against her hand in his trousers. His face contorted into something that might have been frightening on anyone else, but on Sandor it was the most perfect thing Kalira had ever seen. His teeth were bared and clenched, eyes squeezed shut, and his scars were bunching up on his cheek. But it only made her long for him more. 

Kalira slowed her motions to a stop within his breeches, and she leaned her head towards his damp chest softly to kiss him there. She felt Sandor lean over and press his cheek to the top of her head, holding her tightly as his chest heaved with exertion. She twitched her fingers lightly, feeling the stickiness of his seed. 

Sandor pulled back slowly after a few minutes, and Kalira withdrew her hand from his soaked breeches. 

She held it up between them to examine his seed. It was thick, sticky, and it ran between her fingers.

Sandor grimaced, looking abashed at the sight of his own release.

Kalira grinned slowly as a thought dawned on her, and she locked her gaze with Sandor's as she raised her hand to her mouth. Slowly, she dragged her tongue up and down her index finger before popping it into her mouth to clean it off.

Sandor's mouth fell agape as he watched her suck his cum off of her fingertips. 

"You taste so good, Sandor." Kalira said with a sigh, and she meant it. His seed was salty and warm, but not unpleasant at all. The fact it came from him made her enjoy it all the more. 

"You're crazy." He rasped at her, but she could see the lustful admiration all over his face at the sight of her happily licking at his cum. She wondered for a moment if anyone had ever tasted this before, from him? She hoped she was the first, he seemed pleased.

She giggled quietly, and Sandor wrapped his arms around her tightly in a tender embrace. She buried her face into his damp chest as she hugged him tightly. She tilted her head up to look at him, and found he was already gazing down at her with a look she was sure she'd never seen before. His lips parted as if he meant to tell her something. He raised a hand up to stroke her cheek gently, brushing her hair back out of her eyes as he studied her face. Yet his expression suddenly turned troubled.

"What's wrong?" She asked nervously.

Sandor sighed, shaking his head. 

"You have no idea the effect you have on me. Since the last time we were together, I've thought of little else." He said in a voice that was almost pained. 

"You say that as if it were a bad thing." She whispered back at him, reaching up to pull a tendril of damp hair from his cheek. 

"It bloody well isn't a good thing, that's for damn sure." He muttered. "I imagine your father and brother would take turns torturing me if they only knew what I was doing to you at night..."

Kalira smirked, and she quite liked the fact she was frustrating him. It meant this wasn't coming to an end, if she was stuck in his mind. And she wanted Sandor for as long as she could have him.

Something nagged at her though, sparked by his words, and she couldn't quite place her finger on it. She'd forgotten something...

_Oh no._

"Fuck!" Kalira hissed aloud, pulling away from Sandor swiftly.

"What is it?" Sandor growled in an alarmed voice, suddenly protective of her.

"My father, and Silas!" Kalira rushed over to his dresser and used one of the larger shards of broken mirror to examine herself, fixing her hair. "I was supposed to have supper with them tonight, father said it was something important...I only meant to come here to give you your gift and leave..."

Sandor stood by the door with his arms crossed over his broad chest, looking skeptical. 

"Something important?"

"I don't know!" Kalira cried frantically as she mussed her hair and smoothed her dress. "I need to go. I must be late by now...I lost track of time..." She hurried over towards the door, placing her hand on the knob as she eyed him.

A hint of a frown formed at Sandor's mouth.

"Best get going then..." He said, and then he mumbled a few more words that Kalira didn't hear.

"What was that?" 

He cleared his throat, and looked away from her.

"I said, come back later...If you want. You never got yours." He said gruffly.

Kalira let the doorknob slip from her hand and she stared at him incredulously.

"Got...mine? It's not a trade, Sandor. I enjoyed pleasing you tonight." 

He gave her a doubtful look, and shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Still. The offer will stand." 

Kalira giggled at the indifference with which he said that, and she rolled her eyes at him as she leaned up to peck a kiss on his cheek. 

"I'll be back." She said in a tender voice, giving him one last longing glance as she scurried out the door. 

* * * * *

Kalira stumbled into her father's private dining hall, finding that Silas and her father had already finished dinner and were mulling over goblets of wine.

Silas's eyes shot up to regard Kalira in the doorway, looking relieved.

"Kalira, there you are. We finished nearly an hour ago." Silas chided her.

Kalira rushed into the room and swooped down to give her brother a kiss on the cheek, and turned to look at her father. He was dressed in his scarlet armor, complimented by his raven feather cloak. It seemed a bit much for a family dinner, but Kalira disregarded it.

It had been well over a week since she'd seen him, but he looked utterly displeased to be seeing her right now. She ducked her head in shame for her late arrival, swallowing nervously.

"Father, it's good to see you. I'm sorry I'm late--"

"Where were you?" Tytos Blackwood said in a stern voice, his dark eyes sweeping over her as if he could find the source of her tardiness that way. The nostrils of his hooked nose were flaring angrily, he was all too used to Kalira's poor judgement. 

_If only you knew, father._ She thought a bit ashamedly, which surprised her. She hadn't once felt ashamed of her interactions with Sandor, but in this moment her father's piercing gaze had her feeling like a common whore instead of a maid. 

Tytos stroked his salt and pepper beard, looking tired. He sighed deeply at her, as if she exhausted him.

"Never mind that, it isn't important...But we do have something of importance to discuss." He gestured with one of his long thin hands that she should sit.

_This feels...Bad_. She thought as she sat down next to Silas, and turned her chair slightly so that she were facing her father. 

He didn't look at her as he began to spoke, and Kalira knew she wasn't about to be pleased with whatever her father had to say. 

"We've found a match for Silas. A good match. The girl's dowry will allow Raventree Hall to attain enough stores for the coming winter, as well as set us on the right path for years to come after that."

Kalira blinked slowly, fidgeting in her chair.

"That's...good news." She said uncomfortably, waiting for the rest.

"The girl who has been promised to him is in Pentos, a magister's daughter. Magister Erelyis. While she may not be a Westerosi Noblewoman, I have no doubts that her father would assist us financially even beyond her agreed dowry so that she might be the Lady of Raventree when Silas successes."

Kalira nodded, unsurprised. Most houses would turn their nose up to anything but a Noble bride, but her father was a shrewd man who found wealth to be more important than such things. 

"And." He paused, taking a long drink of his wine from his goblet. He turned his eyes on Kalira finally. "We've arranged a match for you as well."

Kalira's world came crashing down around her. Her vision blackened, and her palms grew damp. She thought she might be sick.

"A match?" She heard herself echo, but she couldn't even be sure it was her saying that. She felt as if she was floating above her body.

"Yes. It seems Magister Erelyis has a colleague, Magister Marcelis. Magister Marcelis has recently lost his wife, it seems. An illness she succumbed to." Tytos paused for another long drink. "Magister Marcelis has already fathered more than a dozen children, he has no need for a wife to bear children. He's looking for...Companionship. And when Magister Erelyis told him of you, the beautiful Lady Kalira of Raventree Hall, he made a generous offer to secure your hand."

Kalira tasted the acid in her mouth, and she was sure she would vomit any moment.

"You're selling me, then. To an old man." She whispered. 

Lord Tytos glared at her, shaking his head.

"I'm not _selling_ you, Kalira, you are long overdue to be wed--"

"How old is he?" She interrupted her father, not caring of the consequences.

He narrowed his eyes at her threateningly, but answered anyways.

"I'm unclear on his exact age--"

Kalira slammed her fists on the table, angry tears pooling in the corners of her eye.

"_How. Old. Is. He?_" She said through gritted teeth as the tears began to spill down her face. "If you're selling me like a slave to an old man to be fucked as he pleases, I should know at least that." 

Lord Tytos was trembling with rage, but he let Kalira get away with yet another outburst. Normally he would have yelled so loud the ravens would have fled the old dead weirwood tree that Kalira could see from the window where she was currently sitting. But even he knew that she was right to be upset, his greed just took precedence over her happiness. 

"I _believe_ Magister Marcelis is fifty four." Her father said, not looking at her once again.

Kalira's jaw dropped.

_Fifty._

_Four._

Lord Tytos himself was only a few years older, and Kalira shook her head in disbelief as she cried. Snot ran down her face at this point, and she couldn't have cared less. 

"You can't. You _can't_. Fifty four? Father he's nearly your age." She whimpered, looking for any sign of compassion on her fathers face.

She would find none, her father was stoic as ever. 

"I can, and I will. You've been a burden and a shame ever since you were thirteen and you..." He trailed off, not wanting to speak of it. Her father never wanted to speak of her curse, why Kalira couldn't produce children. It infuriated him beyond words. He sighed and recomposed, staring directly into Kalira's eyes. "You and Silas, as well as a few of our household guards, will ride for Maidenpool in two days time. You will take a boat to Pentos, and you will both be the guests of Magister Erelyis for a fortnight. Silas will have his choice of Magister Erelyis's daughters, and he will sail back to Westeros with her so that they might live here together. You will meet with Magister Marcelis while you are a guest at Magister Erelyis's palace, and the day before Silas takes his leave to return...You will wed Magister Marcelis. Silas will be in attendance at your wedding."

Kalira parted her lips in shock, but before she could say anything her father gave her a stern look once more.

"And that, Kalira, will be the last we speak of this. We'll have your handmaiden's pack your things, and you'll be ready in two days time. Do you understand?"

Kalira bit her lip and ducked her head, nodding solemnly.

"Kalira. Look at me." Her father warned.

She glanced up through bleary eyes to meet his gaze.

"Tell me that you understand. And there will be no issues with you regarding this."

"I u-understand." She hiccuped faintly through her tears, and she added a few words to appease him. "I'll do as I'm told. There will be no issues."

Tytos leaned back in his chair, pleased.

"Good. You may go."

Kalira rose from her chair without a word, not even bothering to glance at Silas as she left the room. He'd sat in silence for the entirety of the conversation, and she'd nearly forgotten he was there. Not for the first time in her life, Kalira wished she was a man. Here, Silas had the freedom to pick from a variety of young women...Whereas Kalira was being passed off on a man old enough to be her father.

Kalira stormed down the hall, walking quickly but not running. She didn't want the servants to be alarmed by her pace. Down, down, down flights of stairs her legs carried her as she went to the depths of the keep until she was in a familiar dark hallway. She felt her way to Sandor's door, and she pounded on it harder than she meant to. 

Tears threatened her eyes once more as she thought of him. Sandor. Her Sandor. She'd never see him again. She'd be left in Essos to be used and taken by an old man as he wished. _Oh gods, oh no. Please, please no._

The door opened, and Kalira lifted her eyes to look at him. Her breath hitched at the sight of him.

He was dressed now, wearing a pair of dark trousers and boots...And the tunic she'd given him. He tugged at the sleeves of it slightly, looking rather nervous and yet so utterly handsome. It fitted to his muscular, broad body perfectly and somehow he looked every bit as large as he did in his normal armor. He'd laced it nearly to the top, but she spied a bit of his chest fuzz peeking from the gap at his collar. He'd even combed his hair a bit, as if he had gotten ready for her to show off the present she'd gotten him.

Sandor's easy expression turned grave as he took in the sight of her crying. He reached for her, pulling her into the safety of his room gently as he peered behind her to make sure no one was watching them. He closed the door, before turning towards her and kneeling onto the ground in front of her. Kalira noticed that he was not even a foot shorter than her, kneeling. She doubted her new _husband_ would be quite so massive as Sandor was. The thought sent her deeper into her crying jag.

"Kalira, what is it?" He said steadily, though she sensed a bit of panic in his voice.

She shook her head, unable to speak through the tears. 

Sandor reached up to wipe her tears away, his calloused fingers felt rough against the salty skin of her cheekbone. 

"Who did this to you?" He said in a menacing voice now, protective of her. "Did someone hurt you? Calm down, so you can tell me what happened. Tell me how I can help you."

Kalira's lips twisted into a miserably sardonic smile.

"You can't help me, Sandor."

He frowned at her, and cupped both her cheeks in his hands as he lifted her face to look at him. Searching for an explanation.

"It's my father." She continued, her breath catching as she tried to talk. It sounded horrible and wheezing, like a sickly animal. 

"What about your father?" He urged, and she thought he might have shaken her with impatience had he not been trying his best to comfort her.

Kalira dropped her eyes, not wanting to see his face when she spoke the terrible words.

"He's made a match for me...If you can call it that." She stopped to catch her breath again, and she noticed Sandor's fingers tensing on her face. "A man from Pentos, nearly twice my age. A very rich man, who apparently has no need for wives who can bear children. He's looking for a young bridge to _fuck_ as he pleases, and he's apparently offered enough money for my father to accept." She hissed the last part, her pain mixing with fury now.

_How could he do this to me?_ She wondered, remembering how calmly her father had told her this. It was easy for him, it wasn't his own fate he was sealing like this.

Sandor's fingers slipped from her face, and he was looking away from her now. 

"Sandor?" She sniffled, her eyebrows knitting with concern.

He rose to his feet and turned towards the door, placing his hand on the doorknob. 

"_Sandor?_" She asked once more, her voice sounding frail.

She studied his face, confused. She thought he'd be angry, or in the very least he'd comfort her. But instead he looked cold, his mouth pressed into a hard line. Kalira watched as he gripped the knob tighter in his fist and pulled the door open slightly as he stared at the ground, not looking at her.

"I think you should leave." 

"What?" She said, imagining she must have misheard him.

"I think you should go back to your chambers, My Lady." Sandor said in an unreadable voice, all the familiarity gone from his tone.

"_My Lady? _Sandor, what are you talking about?" She sounded shrill, and she winced at that.

His nostrils flared as he didn't look at her, his cheek was twitching.

"I told you why we shouldn't. Told you a dog and a noblewoman had no business getting so close. Told you, you would be someone's wife one day. I hadn't thought it would be so soon. We never should have..." His words trailed off, and he was glaring at the wall now. Though Kalira imagined that glare was for her.

"We never should have _what,_ Sandor? Are you saying you regret us...making love?" She struggled with the words, still unsure what to call their time together.

A choked sound came from Sandor's lips, and she saw that he had ducked his head again so that his hair was hiding his face. 

"_Making love_." He practically spat the words as he mimicked her, the cruel snarl back in his voice that she hadn't heard in some time. "Thank the fucking gods we didn't, as if this isn't bad enough." His voice was hoarse in a suspicious way, and Kalira froze. 

_Was he...Crying?_

"Sandor, look at me." Kalira begged, aching to comfort him if he was hurting. 

"_Fuck off._" He snapped at her, his face still hidden. 

"Sandor, I--"

He pulled the door open wider suddenly, his breath sounding wild as if he'd been running for hours rather than just standing in one place.

"Leave. _Now_. I don't want you here anymore." He barked at her, still not meeting her gaze.

The breath rushed out of Kalira's lungs, and pain flooded her chest as if she'd been stabbed. 

"Y-you don't want me?" Kalira whispered tearfully, sniffling.

"No. I don't want you. Now go." He rasped, and she saw that his fingers were shaking where they held the doorknob. 

Kalira reached out to touch his hand so that she could still the trembling. But when she did, he recoiled away from her like he had in the past when she was nothing more than a nuisance to him. She felt her heart breaking as she walked out of his door, her numb feet somehow carrying her over the threshold and out into the hall. She was barely a few steps outside of his chambers when she heard him slam the door behind her.

_I don't want you._

Silent sobs racked her chest as his words echoed in her mind. She felt as if her chest would split open, it hurt so much. She tasted bile and she thought she might be sick as images of Sandor snarling at her clashed in her head with the memory of their intimacy. Kalira crumbled, her legs giving out as she collapsed on the cold stone floor.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very fluffy chapter. Hope you like it.
> 
> P.s., I'm working on something regarding a modern AU SanSan and I really could use some input on a few things.   
Email me at loryfanfic@outlook.com if you're interested in helping me out! Would super appreciate it.

**Sandor**

Sandor leaned against the stone wall near his door and slid down to the floor slowly. He leaned his head forward into his hands, raking his fingertips over his face as he listened to the soft sounds of Kalira crying through the door. Every choked sob he heard felt like a knife in his gut, knowing he was the cause of it. He decided he wouldn't leave the door until she did.

So he sat there for what felt like an eternity, listening to her whimper and sniffle. In truth, it felt wrong to leave her out there. And so many times he felt the urge to fling the door back open and scoop her up off of the floor...But Sandor knew the urge was wrong. He felt nervous, imagining one of the guards walking by in the hall and finding her weeping outside of his door, but he never heard the sound of footsteps indicating anyone was there other than Kalira. 

Eventually, he heard the scuffling sounds of what he imagined was her standing up. Sandor held his breath as he listened to the quiet padding noise of her walking slowly down the hall and away from his door. He exhaled deeply, and braced his hand back against the wall as he rose to his feet. 

Sandor regarded his room for a moment, taking in the sight. His walls were barren and cold, and aside from the sheets on his bed and the few objects on his dresser it looked barely lived in. His mind wandered to the memory of how Kalira had touched him earlier that evening, just a few feet from where he was standing now. The room had felt so much more alive with her in it, and without her it reminded him of a dungeon. He sighed a deep, troubled sigh as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. He removed his boots and sent them careening one at a time across the room in frustration. Sandor's fingers felt heavy as he reached to the collar of his tunic. He shed it as quickly as he could, feeling discomfort at the thought of wearing her gift now that he remembered it. 

Sandor fell back onto his bed, laying his hand behind his head and burying his fingers against his scalp as he stared at the ceiling.

_You don't want me?_

He grimaced, remembering the ache in her voice when she asked him. He hadn't known what to say, so he'd gone with the easiest response. He lied and told her he didn't want her, to make it easier for both of them.

What came next had nearly shattered him. Because despite his snarling insults and cruel words, Kalira had reached for him still. Seeking to comfort _him_ when he was shaking. Sandor couldn't believe it. He knew Kalira was a broken girl...But to try and hold his hand after all of that? It made him feel like even more of a ruthless bastard than he knew himself to be already.

But it had to be done. Sandor had enabled himself to think of her too often, so much so that he had begun to desire more than just her body. Finding out that she was promised to some old rich fuck across the Narrow Sea surely woke him from whatever fantasy he'd been living. 

So he'd pushed her away. Gone cold and asked her to leave. He'd tried to mask the agony with a stern tone, but his eyes betrayed him and he'd even shed a few tears. She'd known it too, even asked him to look at her. But Sandor had just growled out enough hurtful words to chase her away, put the distance between them that should have been there in the first place. He was in too deep, and she would be gone soon. 

But none of that helped to chase the disgusting images in his head away right now. All he could think about was the fact that some wrinkly old twat of a man was going to be laying his filthy hands all over her in a matter of weeks. Deflowering her. Using her as and when he pleased.

Sandor grit his teeth roughly, and he rolled onto his side as he tried to think of something other than that. His eyes caught the sight of a small scrap of fabric near his head, and he moved his palm to lift it up gently. 

_Fuck._

Sandor realized it was her smallclothes, the ones she'd left for him after their first night together. He flashed back to earlier that evening when Kalira had been listening in on him. Sandor had been jerking his cock with the crotch of her smallclothes pressed to his nose as he stroked himself to thoughts of her. She'd worn them before leaving them, and the scent of her was still on them. He'd nearly found his release when he heard the noises at his door.

Sandor had flung the scrap of cloth down on the bed and barely pulled his breeches up to investigate. 

He grinned softly now, despite everything, remembering how furious she'd been with him thinking he'd had another woman in here. Never mind that she downright swore she would leave him alone, but she was beside herself at the thought of him touching anyone but her. Sandor rather enjoyed it, actually. She'd cussed at him ruthlessly and slammed her fists against him in a furious way that had made him harden in his trousers. Instead of making him angry or annoyed, it had aroused him even more. He liked the way her delicate eyebrows were furrowed when she was angry, and the harsh words that came out of her mouth only showed him how envious she was. Like he belonged to her.

Sandor raked his teeth over his bottom lip as he remembered what followed that. The way she'd stood right by his door and stroked him in his trousers so brazenly. And when he'd finished, she licked his seed right off of her fingers. He'd had gotten hard all over again, nearly immediately, at the sight of that. 

Even now, Sandor felt his cock stirring in his breeches at the thought. He thought about ignoring it and just going to sleep, but instead he unlaced his trousers slowly to take himself in his hand. Though he'd never touch her again, he could still enjoy his visions of her. Sandor pushed back all his troubles as he dragged up memories of Kalira naked and writhing on top of him. 

* * * * * *

Sandor wasn't surprised to find that he would be accompanying Lord Silas to Pentos. He expected as much, being the lad's sworn shield. The fact he had to be there when Kalira was handed off to her future husband was something he didn't want to think about. _Couldn't_ think about. It drove him mad.

He sat atop Stranger as he gritted his teeth over the vile thoughts, his eyes following Kalira's form as she walked painfully slow across the court yard to mount her horse. 

It was early, just after dawn, and they were ready to depart for Maidenpool. Sandor was taking up the back of the convoy, and Silas was at the front with three of his household guards close behind. There was a horse drawn wagon already loaded with Kalira's belongings, and one of Kalira's handmaidens was sitting in the back of it. Sandor couldn't remember her name, but she had brought him notes a number of times. 

Lord Tytos was standing some thirty feet away, his stern gaze fixed on Kalira as he watched her climb up onto her horse. Sandor felt his lips twitch with disgust as he regarded her father and his lack of care for Kalira. It didn't escape his notice that Tytos hadn't even bothered to embrace her one last time or say any parting words. Kalira's horse was directly in front of Sandor's now, and his eyes roved over her small form. She was wearing a black gown with gold accents sewn into it, her brown hair had been styled and it hung in soft flowing curls down her back. Sandor couldn't see her face, but her shoulders were hunched forward and her head hung low in a way that told him how miserable she was without even having to look. 

Finally, they began lowering the drawbridge as Silas brought his horse to a slow trot. Sandor kept his eyes on Kalira as they rode out of the gates of Raventree Hall. She turned her head to look back at her home, tears strewing down her face. Sandor felt his stomach churn as he felt an unbearable urge to comfort her, but he buried the thoughts as best he could and focused on the sound of Stranger's hooves against the dirt.

They traveled with few stops from dawn to dusk, only stopping twice to eat and relieve themselves. Sandor couldn't help but admire how adept Kalira was at riding in that she didn't complain or lose the pace even once. He tried to ignore how often she looked back at him, turning his head away to survey the lands around them or focusing on the path before him.

A small inn came into view and suddenly Sandor heard Silas bellow something up ahead. The caravan slowed from a trot to a walk, and as they neared the stables he saw the guards jerk their horses reins to a stop. Sandor did the same, and they all waited patiently to stable their horses for the night. Silas palmed the stable boy a few extra coins and Sandor overheard him requesting that he keep an eye on their wagon through the night. 

They entered the shabby inn, and Sandor felt the warmth of the hearth as they passed through the door. It was crowded, despite it's small size. Sellswords and commoners were crowded around tables, appearing rather drunk. Whores floated from table to table soliciting the men seated there. The smell of stew wafted through the air and Silas and his guards were already seating themselves at an open table and calling out for one of the tavern wenches to bring them ale. He followed them there, and pulled out the last empty seat before lowering himself into it with a faint groan. It had been a long day of riding, and Sandor hadn't slept well the night before. 

His eyes scanned the room, searching for Kalira. He found that she was in the far corner of the room seated at a small table all alone with her eyes fixed on him. He wondered for a moment if her handmaiden had already gone upstairs to go to sleep. He stared back for a moment, but she didn't look away, and it made Sandor feel uncomfortable. He turned his head back towards the table and grasped his palm around the mug before him. Sandor didn't much care for ale, but he welcomed the distraction as he brought the drink to his lips and threw it back. He didn't lower the mug until he had drained it, and then he ordered two more as he listened to the chatter of the guards and Silas at the table. 

Sandor drank heavily for the next hour or so, allowing his eyes to occasionally flicker over to see if Kalira was still there. She was, and she sipped at her own drink as she stared at him through narrowed eyes. It was beginning to anger him, truthfully. In his haze he found himself furious that she was watching him so closely. 

_Stupid girl still doesn't understand, she still won't let it go. _He thought angrily as he slammed back another mug of ale, his vision slightly blurry now.

Silas and his guards were drunk out of their minds by now, whereas Sandor was just getting there. A few of them had girls in their laps, and Sandor averted his eyes from them. Just as he did, a busty whore flitted up to his side and touched the mail that covered his forearm. Sandor froze for a moment, his eyes raking over her as she grinned widely at him.

"My, yer a big one." She said in a drawling tone, her fingers sliding up to his bicep to squeeze the muscle there. "Fancy a romp?" Her eyes traveled up and down the scars of his face in a curious way, but she didn't seem afraid of him like most whores were.

Sandor felt the unbearable urge to push her away from him, but he glanced over at Kalira to find that she was scowling deeply at the woman touching him. A dark though passed through his mind as he turned back to the whore beside him. He swallowed hard, mustering the courage. 

"Aye." Sandor muttered gruffly as he set his mug down and slowly pulled his gauntlets off to set them at the table. He brought a shaking palm up to the woman's side as he guided her into his lap. He dug into the coin pouch at his side, and held a few silver stags out to the whore as he eyed her carefully. 

She was pretty enough, Sandor supposed. She had light brown hair and and a round face with ruddy cheeks that most men liked, but his eyes were fixed on her barely concealed chest. She was wearing a cheaply made gown that was cut low in the front, and Sandor felt sweat prickle at his forehead.

The girl swept the coins from his hands and dumped them into the pocket of her dress in one fell swoop. She shrugged her shoulders in a relaxed motion and the front of her dress slipped down beneath her breasts to pool at her waist. 

Sandor froze, and his mouth went dry. Her teats were nice, larger than most. Round and pretty looking...But all Sandor could think of was how Kalira had looked when she sat on top of him the way this whore was now. 

The whore grabbed one of Sandor's bare palms impatiently and pressed it to the soft flesh of one of her teats, moving his hand in a rubbing motion against her chest. She leaned down to whisper in his good ear, and Sandor dug his fingers into her supple breast. 

"Ye got a room, or do ye want to do this here?" 

As she leaned in, Sandor could see over her shoulder now. Kalira had left the table she was sitting at, and he just barely caught the sight of the trail of her skirts disappearing through the doors of the inn and into the black of night. 

He pulled his hand away from the whore's chest suddenly, and grabbed her waist to lift her off of his lap. 

She glared at him for a moment as she watched him rise to his feet quickly.

He shot one last glance at her exposed chest, before speaking a few words.

"I have something I need to do, keep the payment." 

Her face softened, and she pulled her meager dress back up over her breasts. 

"If ye change yer mind, I'll be here all night." 

Sandor shook his head to clear his thoughts, and he moved quickly towards the doors to follow Kalira to wherever she could have gone. None of the guards seemed to note his departure, too busy with their own entertainment. He walked briskly through the crowded tables of the inn and pushed the doors open to peer out into the blackness. 

_Where the fuck did she go? _He thought heatedly as he stumbled through the muddy dirt, wandering into the darkness. 

Sandor finally caught sight of her in the distance, she was sitting on a large rock with her back to him. He stalked quietly up behind her, or at least as quietly as he could manage in his drunken haze. She was holding something in her hands and turning it over slowly.

"Kalira." Sandor murmured, and she jolted slightly at the sound of his voice. 

He expected that she would turn to look at him, but instead he saw her shoulders bunch up in a frustrated way as she spoke to him without looking back.

"What are you doing out here, Sandor?" Kalira sighed miserably. 

"I could ask you the same." He said as he rounded the stone she was sitting on to face her.

Her head was bent, hair hanging in front of her face so that he couldn't see her expression. But a glint of light flickered from the object in her hands, and Sandor focused on it suddenly.

_A knife._

Kalira was holding a blade in her fingers, turning it over and over again in a menacing way.

"What the fuck are you doing with that? Give it to me." He growled, reaching for the thin blade to snatch it from her.

She pulled back quickly, and her head tilted up to look at him. Her eyes were pained and tears were spilling down her cheeks. She held the blade away from him, her lips trembling. 

"Leave, Sandor. This isn't any of your concern."

Fear prickled at the back of his neck as he weighed her words. 

_Did she mean to...? She wouldn't...Would she?_

Thoughts raced through his mind and he suppressed the urge to tackle Kalira off of the rock and wrestle the knife from her grasp.

"It is my concern. You're the Lady of the house I serve. You shouldn't be out here alone." He said stiffly.

"You didn't seem so concerned a few moments ago, when you had that whore in your lap." She said fiercely, her eyes boring into his. But Sandor saw the weakness there, how hurt she was despite the venom in her tone.

"Kalira...I wasn't going to fuck that girl, I just wanted you to stop looking at me like I'm something more than I am." He sighed, reaching to touch her cheek to brush away the tears that flowed there.

She turned her head away sharply, and Sandor couldn't fault her for it. 

"I'm trying bloody hard to do what's right. For both of us. Why do you have to make it so fucking difficult?" He barked, a bit louder than he meant to. He softened his voice considerably, murmuring to her in a soft tone now. "We're going to Pentos. You're going there to wed another man, and I won't ever see you again after that. You can't keep dragging this out, you have a duty as the Lady of your house and you have to fulfill it." 

He saw her grimace at the reminder, and Sandor felt his eyes widen as he watched her bring the knife up to her own throat slowly. She pressed the blade there, and he stopped breathing for a moment as he watched her.

"You're wrong. I don't _have _to do any of that. I can be free of it all, right now." She whispered faintly, her fingers tightening around the handle of the blade. 

Fear coursed through him and he reached a hand towards her to stop her. She leaned back on the rock to avoid his touch and he saw her push the blade harder against her throat. A thin line of blood began to trickle from where it was piercing the skin. 

"Don't." He rasped desperately, holding his palms back up in submission to show her he wasn't going to take the blade from her. 

"Why? Why shouldn't I?" She demanded of him, her voice garbled by tears. "I've spent my whole life under my father's thumb, and he cared so little for me that now I'm going across the sea to spend the remainder of my time under someone else's thumb. The only difference is that this person will be _fucking_ me whenever he wants, and I'll have no say in it. Why suffer through that? Why not just set myself free right here, right now? No one cares about me. No one will miss me. _No one._"

Sandor's blood ran cold at her words. Slowly, he dropped to the ground to kneel in front of her. The mud squished against the knees of his trousers, but it was beyond his notice at this point. He lifted his gaze to look up at her as he grabbed fistfuls of her gown.

"_I care. I'll miss you._" The words came out choked and tortured, and Sandor felt the slickness of tears flowing down his face. He didn't care if it made him seem weak in that moment. He met her eyes, watching her lips tremble softly as she stared back at him in shock. "Please don't. _Please._" Sandor begged for the first time in his life. He gently lowering his head to rest in her lap as he tangled his fingers deeper in the soft fabric of her gown. He buried his face against her skirts with his eyes squeezed shut. 

Sandor felt her shifting beneath him as she lifted her palm to cup his cheek, brushing her fingertips against the ruined skin to wipe his tears away in slow rhythmic strokes. Sandor opened his eyes and moved his head in her lap slightly so that he could look at her. 

She'd lowered the blade, but it was still clutched in her hand resting above her breasts. Her eyes were smoldering as she looked at him, and she looked conflicted. The need to reach up and snatch the knife away surged through him, and Sandor resisted. Instead he gently released her skirts from his fist, and laid his hand over hers on his cheek. 

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as all manner of trite things passed through his head, searching for words that would chase the despairing thoughts from her mind. Nothing came to him, so he squeezed her hand tightly in his and dragged it to his lips to kiss her palm lightly as he murmured to her the only thing that he could think to say.

"You aren't the only one who's had a miserable life." Sandor began.

"I grew up in a castle like you, and my mother wasn't around either...just the same as yours. I lived there with my father and brother. When I was a boy of six or seven, a woodcarver sent toys to my Father for us to buy his favor. My brother was older, too old for toys, he was already a squire. The woodcarver had sent him a painted knight with strings that you could use to make him fight. I don't remember what my toy was, but it was my brother's toy that I wanted. So I took it, and I played with it. I didn't enjoy it. I was scared the whole time that he would find me...And I was right to be worried. He caught me playing with it, and he didn't say a word as he grabbed me and dragged me to a brazier in the room. He pressed my face into the burning coals and held me there while I screamed--" Sandor's voice broke, and he cleared his throat lowly as the horrible memory ran through his mind. 

"The worst part of it all was that my father lied to everyone about what happened. He told people that my bedding caught fire. He protected my brother, and my brother went on to be knighted." His voice hitched in agony as he recalled it, and he spat _knight _out like a dirty word. "Ever since the day I was burned, my life has been utter shite. I spent years serving Lannister _cunts_ because it was expected of me, and I killed for them. Killed more people than I can even remember. Didn't stop them or anyone else from sneering at me though. Cowering at the sight of a murderous old dog, something I'll never get used to. Men feared me, women were repulsed by me. Even whores despise the sight of me, save for a few brave ones who thought I'd pay extra because of how buggering ugly I am. I never did, though. I was always afraid that I'd get a whore in bed only to see the revolted look on her face when she realized her regret."

Sandor pulled back for a moment, lifting his head from her lap to look at her. Kalira wasn't crying any more, but she was staring at him with her beautiful green eyes all wide in awe. The knife was down by her side now, her fingers wrapped loosely around the handle. Relief washed over him, and he swallowed hard as he continued.

"And then, I met you. Lady Kalira of House Blackwood. The first time you spoke to me, I thought you were a loon. A pretty one, maybe, but still a loon." He said, smirking lightly at her despite the heaviness that hung in the air around them. 

Sandor was pleased to find that her lips twitched slightly into a something of a smile at his words and he went on, encouraged.

"You frustrated the hell out of me in more ways than one. I thought of you constantly, couldn't stop no matter how hard I tried. Fantasized about all manner of debauched things I wanted to do to you when I was alone in my chambers at night... And then, one day, you kissed me. Couldn't believe it, I swear I thought it was a dream. Until you came to me again one night and asked me to take you." Sandor sucked in a sharp breath, lust clouding his gaze at the memory. 

Kalira bit her lip, looking as if she felt the same as him in that moment.

Sandor pushed back his feelings of desire, needing to get the words out.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Kalira, is that you have been the one sliver of light in the otherwise dark story of my life. Never once, not even for a moment, did I imagine myself having a woman desire me the way you did. The way you have." Sandor bit the words out harshly, wishing he sounded nicer saying them. But it was hard enough to speak such vulnerable things, to sound like a lovesick fool while saying them would be too much. His eyes settled on the knife in her palm. "Maybe this is a selfish way to see things, but I have these memories of you now. They're mine, forever, and I'll carry them with me until the day I die. And if you were to take yourself from this life, I could never look back to our time together with anything but pain and regret. And everything would be dark again... So please...Don't do it." He rasped in a ragged voice, and he felt exhausted by his own emotions. He wasn't used to begging anyone for anything, and it wore on him.

After a few moments of heavy silence, he watched as Kalira opened her palm and let the knife slip from the fingers. It clattered against the rock loudly before disappearing into the thick grass. His gaze flickered up to her face, and he saw a single tear sliding down her cheek as she stared at him, her face unreadable. She remained wordless though and Sandor felt exposed now. He'd bared himself to her and she--

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Kalira throwing her arms around him and pushing him onto his back into the grass. She settled her weight on him, and he felt her soft lips brushing gentle kisses frantically all over the gnarled skin on his face. Her fingers slid against the scars that delved into his hairline, and she stroked the thin locks affectionately. He should have resisted, lifted her off of him and took her back to the safety and warmth of the inn. But instead he wound his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest as he dragged his mouth across the skin of her face until he found her lips. He felt her take his lower lip between hers and suck it softly, and he couldn't help but groan lowly in response.

_Seven hells, where had she learned that?_ He wondered, a bit of jealousy mixing with his arousal as he slid his hands down her back to cup her arse through her dress. 

Sandor suppressed any thoughts of the reality of their situation as he laid there in the dark with her on top of him, reveling in her tender touch and stirring kisses. 

* * * * * *

After that night, Sandor had eased up on his attempts to ignore Kalira. He knew it was wrong, but he decided he was going to bask in her glow up until the very end if he could. Though they hadn't been intimate again, he took every opportunity to touch her or kiss her when Silas and his other guards weren't around. Sometimes even while they were on road he would ride next to her and talk to her whenever he could. Her handmaiden watched them from the back of the wagon, but Sandor wasn't too concerned about her. After all, Kalira had sent her many times to deliver notes to Sandor. It was unlikely that she didn't already suspect the nature of their interactions.

In a few days time, they reached Maidenpool. Sandor had been there before, long ago, but Kalira seemed bristling with excitement to be somewhere new. It made his chest ache somewhat that she should only be visiting new places on account of her father shipping her off to Essos. It bothered him, so he tried not to think of it as they rode into the town.

"Look!" Kalira chirped, pointing to a stone building. "It's Jonquil's bathhouse." 

Sandor's gaze followed to where she was pointing, and he eyed the building for a long moment before looking back to her. 

"Aye, that it is." He replied stiffly, his cheeks burned as he imagined Kalira bathing. He shook his head quickly to rid his mind of the lewd thoughts. They were close to the docks now, and he was trying to keep his eyes open for Lannister soldiers. It was different here than at Raventree Hall, Lord Tytos was adamant in keeping Sandor in his employ as he loathed Lannisters. But Maidenpool had direct routes from King's Landing, so he stayed vigilant. 

They reached the docks a bit slower than Sandor had hoped, but he hadn't seen any of the red-cloaked bastards wandering around so he relaxed a bit. Silas dismounted his horse, and strode up to approach the ship master. Sandor hung back, eyeing the ship that they were to board. It was bigger than he expected, and he wondered how many others aside from their party would be in steerage with him. He could find himself coming back from Essos with a party of Lannisters waiting for him on the docks if anyone recognized him on the way out. 

His gaze flickered over to Kalira, but he found that she too had dismounted and was speaking to the ship master now. Silas had returned to his horse, and was untying his saddlebags as a deckhand was leading his stallion onto the boat. Sandor refixed his eyes on Kalira, and watched curiously as she whispered in the captain's ear. She palmed him something, and he nodded in response to her. Kalira smiled, and turned on her heel to approach her horse. She began fiddling with her saddlebags, and Sandor cleared his throat to get her attention.

"The fuck was that about?" He asked, raising his brow at her.

Kalira pursed her lips, obviously fighting back a smile.

"Nothing."

"You're an awful liar." He muttered, and he saw her grin as she ducked her head.

Within the hour, the ship was loaded with all of Kalira's belongings and their horses. They had to leave the wagon behind, there obviously wasn't room for it on the ship, but they were lined up waiting to board as the Captain ran down the manifest carefully. 

"...Lord Silas Blackwood, cabin. Lady Kalira Blackwood, cabin..." The captain spoke slowly, running down the list. 

Sandor stopped listening, and his eyes fixed on Kalira as he watched her walk up the ramp and onto the ship. He was admiring the way her rear looked in her dress when his turn came.

"...Ser Roldan, steerage...Sandor Clegane, cabin..."

Sandor paused with his foot on the ramp as he turned to look at the captain with confusion. 

"Cabin?" He asked, his forehead scrunching as he searched the man's face.

The captain nodded, not looking up from his log. 

"Aye, the Lady asked that you be nearby her and her Lord brother in case of trouble. Paid me triple to remove the lad who was already in there." He chuckled quietly, and then shot a glance up at Sandor looking a bit annoyed that he was holding up the flow of passengers.

Sandor turned back to the ship awkwardly, and slung his saddlebag over his shoulder as he shook his head slowly. He tread up the ramp and onto the deck and saw Kalira standing with her hands on the side of the ship, staring at the horizon. He thudded over to her, his footsteps echoing on the wooden panels of the deck. She didn't turn to look at him, instead her eyes were fixed on the rising sun in the distance as it cast rays of light over the water. Even Sandor had to admit it was a nice view, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He daringly reached a gloved finger up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, well aware anyone could have seen him do it.

She finally turned to look at him, a dazed expression on her face.

"It's lovely." She whispered in a sweet voice that made Sandor's knees weak. 

"It is." He murmured quietly, and he wondered suddenly if Kalira had ever seen the ocean before in her life. He guessed not.

Sandor gently touched her arm and tugged slightly as if to tell her they should be going. 

Kalira nodded, and he walked behind her as they found their way to the stairs that lead below deck. They found their way to the cabins quickly, and Sandor noted how few of them there were. He imagined it hadn't been cheap, and he gently snagged Kalira's wrist before she disappeared into her own cabin.

"Why did you get me a cabin?" He asked, confused. 

She turned to look at him, blinking in surprise. 

"We'll be on this ship for a little less than a fortnight, I wanted you to be comfortable." She remarked with a small shrug of her shoulders. 

Sandor relaxed his grasp on her wrist, and his hand fell to his side. He went to turn away, satisfied with her answer.

"...Also, it would be much more noticeable to the other guards if you were disappearing from steerage every night."

Sandor turned back to look at her, his upper lip curling with amusement as his eyes raked over her. 

"And why would I be doing that?" 

Kalira's hand left the door, and she glided up closer to him. She leaned up on her toes, and snaked her hand around his neck to pull him down closer to her. 

Sandor obliged and he leaned his head down as her fingers tickled at the back of his neck. He felt her hot breath on his ear, he closed his eyes slowly enjoying the sensation.

"Because, my love, you're going to be in my bed _every_ night until we get to Pentos." She whispered, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. 

Sandor shuddered, and when he opened his eyes she had already disappeared into her cabin. He chewed his lip slowly as he found his way to his own cabin. He pushed the door open and his eyes trailed over the interior. 

It was small, and so was the bed, but it had a desk as well as a chair. Much better than a hammock in steerage or a bedroll. Sandor let his saddlebag fall off of his shoulder onto the desk, and he turned to sit on the edge of the tiny bed. He leaned back, falling onto the pillow and staring up at the rafters above him as he played Kalira's words over in his head.

_My love._

He felt a lump in his throat, and his heart beat furiously in his chest as he tried to imagine how he was ever going to bring himself to leave Essos without her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter compared to the last few, a little more than half the size of the previous ones. Truthfully, I want the next chapter to be from Sandor's perspective because it's going to be an important one--So, enjoy this fluffy short chapter from Kalira's perspective and hang tight for the next one in the meantime. <3

** Kalira **

Despite her teasing words to Sandor, Kalira didn't seek him out the first night on the ship. She was rather tired from the journey, and she'd had trouble sleeping the past few nights. Kalira would lay awake long into the evenings to mourn the loss of her future life. Sometimes she'd spend the time trying to imagine what her husband was going to be like, and sometimes she would just think of Sandor. At any rate, she hadn't been able to get much rest. So she took advantage of the way the rocking of the ship against the waves lulled her to sleep. 

She rose early the next morning, somehow before her handmaiden had even come to her cabin. Despite the fact she still felt tired, Kalira sat up and stretched her back and legs as best she could in the rather cramped quarters. Mussing her hair lightly as she rose from her bed, she sought the desk chair with bleary eyes as she lowered herself into it. She dug her mirror out of her saddlebags and peered into it. Kalira brushed her fingers through her brown locks as she stared at herself for a long moment.

There was a thin scabbed line on her throat, a frightening reminder of how distraught she had been just a few short nights ago. If it weren't for Sandor, she would likely be dead by now. Her mind had gone to such dark places that evening. Thoughts she never knew she was capable of having. Truthfully, his stunt with the whore in the tavern hadn't helped. But he explained to her later that he had only done it to try and keep her away from him, because he wasn't strong enough to push her away on his own. Sandor had kept close to her after that night, as if he were protecting her from herself. Perhaps she should feel a bit hurt that she had to nearly take her own life to make him show some sensitivity, but it was hard not to revel in his attention.

_It won't last. He'll be gone soon._ A doubtful voice reminded her in her head. Kalira swallowed hard, watching the lump in her throat roll down her neck as she did so. Desperate to chase away the negative thoughts, she grabbed a simple wrap dress from her bags. Kalira slid her arms into the sleeves of the pale pink fabric and tied it off at the middle as she hurriedly reached for her door. She'd spend the morning talking to Fayle, her handmaiden, and they could enjoy breakfast together.

Kalira walked the few short steps to the cabin that Fayle was staying in. She knocked softly on the door and waited. _Nothing._ With a bit more force, she knocked again. She was rewarded with more silence. Kalira huffed loudly, and walked towards Silas's cabin door. Not sparing him the same courtesy of a polite knock first, she thumped her fist harshly against the wood grain. Silas was a heavy sleeper. 

A few moments later, he appeared at her door. His sandy brown locks were tousled from sleep, and he looked exhausted. He braced his frame in a slump against the door, focusing his bloodshot eyes on Kalira. 

"What?"

"Good morning to you too, brother," Kalira grumbled.

He responded with an exaggerated eye-roll. "Morning. What do you want?"

"Want to have breakfast with me? Fayle isn't coming out of her cabin, I'd appreciate the company," she said, wincing at how pathetic it sounded.

Silas grinned suddenly at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Uh..." He pushed the door open a bit wider, and his quarters came into view. 

It was bigger than hers, but Kalira expected that much. What she didn't expect, however, was to see her handmaiden resting in Silas's bed.

"_Silas!" _she hissed, swinging her fist out to punch him on the arm. "Really? You're fucking Fayle?"

"Fucking sounds so uncouth, sister. A Lady shouldn't speak that way, nor should she hit a Lord," he mocked with a gleam in his eye.

Which earned him another punch from Kalira. "You're to be married! We're on our way to your future bride at this very moment."

Silas rubbed his shoulder in faux pain, his brows furrowed as he weighed her words.  
"What of it? I'm not married yet. I've got a measurable amount of freedom left at this point, Kalira. I intend to make the most of it by spending my time doing what makes me happy," he said with a shrug as his eyes trailed behind her. "Something you might consider trying for yourself."

Kalira turned to follow his gaze, and she found that his eyes were locked onto Sandor's door. She whipped her head around in shock to face him, eyes narrowed now.

"I don't know what you're implying."

"Oh I'm entirely sure you know what I'm implying," he said with a small smile. "Perhaps you think you've been discrete, but really it's obvious to anyone with eyes. I've seen the way you look at him Kali. And what's more...I've seen the way he looks at you."

"Is that so?" Kalira drawled, trying to feign ignorance. "Illuminate the situation for me, brother. How does he look at me?"

"Like he's in love with you," Silas whispered.

Kalira felt her heart drop into her stomach at her brother's words. He was rarely one to speak in a genuine way, and together they always jested and teased each other. But now, in this moment, she knew he was completely serious.

_In love with me? That's impossible..._

"You're wrong," she said, though her silent pause had been incriminating in it's own way. "Sandor's not in love with me. There's nothing going on between us, and I don't know what you're talking about."

The corner of Silas's mouth tugged down slightly into a frown, and his eyes grew sad.

"Oh so it's _Sandor, _now_..._is it? Not _The Hound_? I'm not father, Kalira, and maybe it's not my concern. Truthfully, I don't care what you do..." his voice trailed off, and he let out a deep sigh. "But know this: I've never seen you happier than you have been the last month around him. I can't say that I understand it either, he's a murderer. An ugly one at that, not to mention he's ornery. But if he means so much to you, makes you so happy...then you should spend as much time with him as you can."

Her brother's words felt like a knife in her gut, and she realized it was because he was right. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks as she stared at him, partly in shock and partly in admiration of her little brother. She threw her arms around him suddenly, squeezing his large frame in her arms as she leaned her head into his chest.

"You've grown up, baby brother," she whispered tearfully, leaning up to peck a kiss at his cheek.

Silas hugged her back awkwardly, before gently pushing her away and patting her on her head. "I just don't want you to regret anything. You've only got so much time left to be yourself."

Kalira cringed at his words, and he flashed her a sympathetic look. 

"Thank you though, Silas. Can you do one more thing for me?"

"Anything."

"Tell Fayle I shouldn't need her today. I'll be...busy."

Silas grinned wickedly at her. "I'll be sure to pass it along. Have fun Kalira," he said in a playful voice as he closed the door.

Kalira wiped the last few stray tears from her face, smiling faintly as she turned towards Sandor's cabin. Time to wake the beast. 

She strode over to his door and knocked lightly. Kalira held her breath for a moment as she heard the loud thudding footsteps crossing the small room. 

He appeared before her, his long hair a tangled mess. He was shirtless again, and just in his breeches. His eyes were tired, and he was scowling as he opened the door. That is, until his gaze fell upon Kalira. The scowl softened considerably at the sight of her. 

_Fuck. Silas was right. _

"You're late," he growled, but there was a hint of playfulness in his razing tone that Kalira had come to recognize.

"Late? Late for what?" Kalira sputtered, feeling confused.

Sandor stepped towards her, and he lifted an enormous palm to her lower back as he pulled her closer. He bent his neck down to brush his mouth faintly against hers, barely a kiss. "Have you forgotten already? You said we'd spend every night together...in _your_ bed."

_Oh, right._

Kalira wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself tight against his chest. "I suppose, but does that not mean that _you_ are late? You should have come to my cabin," she said.

Sandor shifted slightly while he held her, dragging her with him into his quarters as he closed the door behind them and latched the lock. He turned his attention back to her, his brown eyes dragging over her form as he regarded her. "I did," he murmured, winding a lock of her hair around his his fingers absentmindedly.

"You did?"

"Aye, I did...late last evening. You didn't come to the door."

Kalira blushed suddenly, feeling remorse. He'd come to her quarters looking to see her, and she'd slept right through it all. "My apologies, I was tired," she whispered sheepishly. "I still am, really."

Sandor released her hair and pulled away from her, turning towards his bed to ease himself back into it. 

Kalira fought back the urge to giggle as she watched him situate himself. He was far too large for the bed, and he had to bend his knees to keep his feet from hanging off of the edge. 

"Come here, then. Rest with me," Sandor rasped quietly, and Kalira realized he looked rather tired himself. 

She moved closer to his bed, trying to figure out where she might fit with his large form taking up so much of the small area. Then she heard him sigh deeply at how she was demurring, and felt his large hands grasp her waist and pull her on top of him. This was...interesting. Kalira was laying atop his broad chest now, and she shifted her knees so that they were on either side of him. She rather liked it actually. Kalira lifted her head a few times, trying to find a comfortable manner to place it--

"Quit your moving," he grunted, placing a hand on her back to still her.

"Sorry," she whispered meekly as she nuzzled her cheek against his chest hair. Laying on him like this, her head was right over his heart. He was warm, although his muscular chest was not quite as comfortable as a feather bed. 

They laid there like that for a while, and Kalira wondered if he had fallen asleep. "I can feel your heart beating," she said in a gentle voice.

He shifted slightly beneath her, and she felt him grasp her wrist in his calloused hand. Tilting her head up, she watched as he brought it to his face. He pressed her soft flesh against his mouth harshly, and it slowly dawned on her what he was doing.

"I can feel yours, too," he murmured against her wrist as he dragged his lips over the sensitive skin. 

Kalira went flush at the sensation, a shiver running through her as her breath caught. "Might I ask you something?"

Sandor grunted lightly in acknowledgement as he kept laying faint kisses on her wrist. 

Kalira pulled her hand gently from his grasp, and she placed her hands on his chest to prop herself up so she could look at him. 

He was laying with one arm behind his head, which made his muscles strain in a glorious way. His eyes were fixed on her, looking curious.

"Are you a virgin?" Kalira blurted, a bit more brusquely than she meant to. But it was hard not to ask, she had been wondering ever since the night he'd found her with the knife. He had professed that whores were afraid of him, or showed bravery in hopes of getting more gold from him, but that he denied their advances. Perhaps she was being ridiculous but she secretly hoped he was.

All of the warmth left Sandor's eyes, and his nostrils began to flare. "The fuck are you talking about?" he growled lowly, and he pushed himself up on his elbows so that he was no longer laying flat on the bed. His motion sent Kalira falling back slightly.

_Uh oh._

Kalira sat back on her haunches, straddling his lap. She wound her hair around her wrist nervously, her eyes flitting across his chest and face. "I just--That one night, the things you told me...it seems like you might be. And, the entire time you were at Raventree Hall I never saw you with a whore."

His expression was fierce now, and his chest was heaving angrily. Kalira feared he might strike her, and she shied back away from him. 

"I-I'm sorry, please don't be upset," she started, but his snarling voice cut into hers quickly.

"Should have known that you would drag that shite up again. Never should have told you any of it," he snarled in a furious voice, and she could feel him trembling beneath her with rage. "You could never know an old dog's pain, stupid girl. Fuck your _curse,_ if it's even real, you still know nothing of loneliness--"

He was growling and cursing at her, and normally Kalira might have cringed at his cruel words. But now, she saw through them. Her question had touched a nerve, and he felt attacked by her curiosity. She swallowed hard, and leaned forward suddenly to grasp his face in her hands. 

His furious expression grew confused, but his brows were still furrowed with rage as he went to speak again. "Wh--"

Kalira smothered his angry words with her mouth, dousing the fire in him. His lips were stiff against her tender kisses, and she pulled back slightly to speak.

"Hush. Kiss me," she demanded in a sultry voice, before leaning back in to graze his lips with her tongue. She stroked the ruined side of his face gently as she sucked on his lower lip, dragging her teeth across it to bite it softly.

Sandor groaned against her mouth, and she felt his tense form give way to meld around her. He kissed her back now, his lips moving gently against hers. 

They laid there for a while, embracing as they kissed languidly. Kalira pulled away eventually, and nuzzled her face into his neck. His arms were still wrapped around her, and she felt exhaustion sweeping over her. 

Just as she was beginning to doze, a idea came to her. A rather devious thought, and Kalira felt a bit guilty for even thinking it...But it would likely save her from being wed to the old Magister she was promised to. She decided she would mull it over when they awoke from their nap.

* * * * * *

"I always did prefer the red ones," Kalira commented as she munched on her apple. It was the green kind, tart and sour. Her lips puckered and she winced at the stinging feeling in her mouth. Beside her, she heard Sandor chuckle quietly. "You laughing at me?" she said in a playfully challenging tone. 

"Aye, I'm laughing at you. You look like a fish making that face," he said gruffly, but the corner of his mouth was turned up with mirth.

Kalira leaned across the bed towards him, intentionally puckering her lips now. She gasped when he grabbed her tiny chin in his enormous hand and squeezed the corners of her mouth with his thumb and forefinger. He held her lips in the pursed position, and leaned down to peck a kiss at them. 

A giggle bubbled in her throat and she grinned at him as she pulled her face from his grasp to return to her apple. Sandor had finished two in the time that it had taken her to finish half of one, and she had told him it wasn't fair because two bites for him was almost the entire apple. 

After their rest earlier, they had switched to Kalira's cabin because it was a bit bigger than Sandor's. Now, he was sprawled out on her bed watching her eat. He'd gotten dressed, and she was pleased to see he was wearing the tunic she'd had made for him. 

Her eyes raked over him slowly as she bit another chunk off of her apple. "You look good in that, you know."

Sandor looked down at himself, and then shrugged one massive shoulder indifferently. "Fancy clothes don't change your face," he said, averting his gaze.

Kalira chucked her apple core at him, furrowing her brow. "It was a compliment, learn how to accept one."

He snorted derisively at her, his upper lip curling slightly. "It was a lie."

"It was not," Kalira said defensively, and she shuffled closer to him on the bed. Kneeling in front of him, she touched his cheek lightly. "I like your face."

"Fuck off," Sandor growled as he jerked his face away from her touch.

Kalira bit her lip softly, but she persisted. It was important to her that he know she wasn't just saying these things. She grasped his jaw and pulled his gaze back towards her as she spoke. "The fact you don't like the way you look does not justify you speaking to me in a cruel manner."

"I don't want to hear your lies."

"And I already told you, I don't lie to you," she whispered gently as the pad of her thumb stroked his cheek. 

Sandor merely grunted in response, his eyes focusing somewhere behind her despite the fact he was facing her. 

"Don't you want to know why?" Kalira asked patiently.

"Why, what?"

"Why I like your face." 

"Because you're touched in the head?" he muttered dryly, though his gaze shifted to her. Curiosity flickered as he waited for her response.

"Maybe I am," she chuckled, appreciating his dark humor. "But that's not it... Believe it or not Sandor, I am attracted to you just how you are. And in a way, I'm grateful for your scars..."

She heard his breath suck in sharply, and his eyes looked angry. She quickly went on, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

"...because they saved you for me. If not for your scars, you'd likely be a renowned knight. You'd have a wife, possibly a family. But instead you're with me. Right here, right now... Maybe that's selfish, but I don't care," she whispered nervously, swallowing hard as she waited for his reaction.

Sandor stared at her for a long moment, and then sighed deeply. He wrapped his massive arms around her and pulled her into his lap. "You really are a strange girl," he rasped in a warm voice as he buried his face into her hair, squeezing her tight against him.

Sh smiled as she wound her arms around his neck, pecking a soft kiss at his scarred cheek. "It's almost as if you've said that before," she giggled as she trailed her fingertips along his jagged jawline.

Sandor leaned into her hand ever so slightly, a soft groan escaped his lips at her touch. "Maybe because it's true."

"Maybe," she whispered. Her mind went back to the idea she'd had this morning before she'd fallen asleep. She steeled herself, and then spoke to him in a gentle voice, "do you want to drink? I brought a cask from home...It's with the rest of my things, by the horses."

"You brought an entire cask of wine with you for a trip to Essos?" Sandor leaned back from her slightly, his eyebrow raised.

"I suppose I thought that I might use it to drown my sorrows," she said with a small shrug. "We don't have to drink if you don't want to."

"I want to," he said as he gently lifted her from his lap and moved out from under her, "stay here. I'll get it."

Kalira took his place on the bed, noticing how warm it was where he was laying. She watched as he slipped out of her cabin.

It had been obvious how much Sandor's demeanor had changed around her in the last few days. He still had his abrasive moments where he took something she said the wrong way, but he had softened considerably towards her. He seemed to have given up trying to stay away from Kalira, and she was pleased by that.

Her motives for having him fetch the wine weren't innocent, and she felt a twinge of guilt for her intent. She was sure that the Magister in Pentos had offered such a generous amount for her based on the fact she was pure.

_Perhaps_, she thought, _he might have less desire for a bride who is not the maid he was promised._

Sandor was firm in his decision not to deflower her, that she knew. For a man who was known all over Westeros for being a skilled killer, his morals seemed sound when it came to Kalira's maidenhead. She hoped that he might reconsider if he were a bit less sober.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sandor re-entering the room, the cask curled under his arm and his other hand holding two horn mugs.

Kalira smiled at the sight of him, watching as he lowered the cask onto the desk and pried the top off to let it breathe.

"Was it hard to find?" she asked as she slipped off the bed and moved to stand beside him. She scooped up one of the horns and poised it below the spout as Sandor poured for her.

He shook his head no as he poured himself a horn full, and moved to sit on the edge of her bed.

Kalira shifted to sit next to him, and settled in for a evening of drinking. Hoping, silently, that her plan would work...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, your comments have been amazing and I'm anxious to post the next chapter but I'm going to wait until sunday/monday because I want to make sure Ao3 is working properly with all the updates. I love you all! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys, I wanted to wait until Ao3 was fully operational again before I uploaded.  
Thank you all so much for being so kind to me in your comments, I hope you like this chapter. It's one I've been looking forward to for a long time.
> 
> <3

**Sandor**

  
"Let's play a game," Kalira said with a mischievous smile, her tongue darting out of her mouth to lick droplets of wine off of her lips.

They'd been drinking for the last hour or so, but conversation had been light on Sandor's end. Kalira tended to talk at length with Sandor commenting here or there on things she had to say. Admittedly, he didn't mind. Even if what she was speaking of didn't interest him, he enjoyed watching her. The way her face lit up, her gestures, the gleam in her eye...much like the gleam she had in her eye right this moment.

"A game?" Sandor echoed, though his eyes were transfixed on her lush lips as he spoke. Seeing her pink tongue had made his mind wander back to when she had put her mouth on him all those weeks ago. He pushed the lewd thought away with a slight shake of his head, and focused back on her. "What kind of game?" 

"A drinking game," Kalira chirped as she gently tugged the horn out of his hand and moved to refill it. 

"Don't need a bloody game to drink," he grunted, eyeing her rear as she bent over to use the cask. 

Kalira turned to hand his horn back to him, and caught him staring at her arse. It earned him a wink as she moved to sit back on the bed, angling her body towards him. 

"Maybe _you_ don't, but it would be a welcome distraction for me. It might even be fun." Her eyebrows knit together as she gave him pleading looks, even jutting her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. 

Sandor took in a mouthful of his wine and rolled it over his tongue slowly before swallowing. He gave a curt nod of agreement, despite the fact he wasn't one for games. It was hard to resist her though.

She immediately beamed at his approval and set her horn of wine in her lap, wedged between her legs. "Perfect! It'll be fun, I know it...It's a game of truths. The object of the game is to ask the other person a question--a personal question. If they answer, then you drink. If they refuse to answer, they drink."

Sandor stiffened, and he felt a dull ache in his gut. The thought of Kalira asking him questions about his past, or worse--his feelings, made him bite the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. He suspected he'd be drinking a lot in this game. "Seems the game might favor you, _my Lady_," Sandor taunted as he ran the tip of his finger around the rim of the horn, "lots more shite in my past than yours..."

"Don't be so sure," Kalira whispered, "I'll go first, then?"

He gave another wordless nod as he watched her. 

She looked thoughtful for a moment, her eyes glancing at the ceiling as she tried to conjure up a question for him. A knowing expression appeared, and she flickered her eyes back towards him. "If you could do anything for work, besides what you do now, what would you do?" 

Sandor considered her words for a moment, surprised at her question. He'd figured she would be a bit more personal, but he suspected she was going easy on him for now. "Besides what I do now?" he echoed.

"Yes...No killing, or serving noblemen. If you could do something else entirely with your life, what would it be?" 

Sandor leaned sideways onto the bed, propping himself up with on elbow as he spoke. "No killing, eh? Doesn't leave much..." he gripped the horn in his hand firmly as he thought. "Don't know that I'd work at all then. Maybe I'd just build myself a hut somewhere, sow the land, and just live." 

Kalira smiled at him faintly, before taking a big drink of her wine. "Sounds nice. I would imagine you're a bit tired of serving others by now." 

"Aye. I've been protecting pampered noble cunts almost my entire life," he paused, a wicked smirk crossing his lips, "--like you."

Kalira's jaw dropped, and she whipped a pillow at his head fiercely as she snorted out a giggle. 

Sandor grabbed it from the air and tossed it back at her with a bit less force, unable to hide the grin on his face. 

She huffed at him, but her eyes danced in a way that told him she wasn't bothered in the slightest by his jab. "Your turn."

He thought for a moment, a myriad of raunchy questions running through his mind. But he opted to take the simpler route, and parroted her question back to her. "What about you then? What would you do, if you could do anything? Where would you go?"

She looked a bit disappointed that he'd chosen to just reiterate her question, but she answered regardless, "I suppose, ironically enough, that I'd go to Essos. Not to marry a Pentoshi Magister, of course... But I've always wanted to see the world, experience new places and new things. I'd want to see it all. Visit Myr, walk the Long Bridge in Volantis, see the Titan of Braavos, walk the markets in Vaes Dothrak, everything. Every bit of it, I'd want to explore it all." 

The look on her face was pained now, and Sandor cursed himself inwardly for asking her. He realized she was wondering about all the freedom she'd never have. Sandor quietly chugged his wine as he shifted his gaze away from her, not wanting to make her feel any more vulnerable than she already did in this moment. 

"My turn," her feeble voice murmured. She was looking at him now as he drank, her gaze dark and unreadable, "when was the last time you pleasured yourself?"

Sandor choked on his wine, drawing the horn away from his mouth as he coughed and sputtered on the rich liquid. 

"_Fuck_," he rasped, clearing his throat loudly as his cheeks burned at her question.

_Where in Seven Hells had that come from?_

She was smiling at him impishly now, and she yanked his horn from his hand to refill it again at the cask. When she returned, she held it back out to him with a mocking grin. "Answer, or drink."

Sandor pressed his lips into a hard line as he thought about her question, and he truly didn't want to answer. If he were to be honest, it was only last night that he had done so. He'd laid in his small cabin and jerked himself furiously to memories of her. He'd pictured fucking her, taking her beneath him and deflowering her as if she belonged to him. Now, he grit his teeth and raised the horn to his lips, chugging again as he was careful not to choke. 

"Thought so," Kalira grinned triumphantly, "your turn, handsome." 

_Handsome?_ He thought as a dull warmth spread through his chest at her words. Sandor wanted to scowl. He hated how easily she could make him feel things, a starved dog begging for scraps of her affection. 

Biting back the surge of emotion that coursed through him, he pulled his lips from his horn of wine and swiped the droplets of wine from his beard. 

"Aye, my turn. You want to play it like that, girl? So be it..." 

* * * * *

They played her game for another hour, and Sandor was dismayed to find that Kalira was rather ruthless with her questions. She asked him any number of lewd or embarrassing things that she managed to dream up. The first time he'd seen a girl naked, what kind of girls he liked, if he'd ever paid to watch whores when he was in King's Landing, and so forth. More than half the time he ended up drinking rather than admit to the things she was asking about. He'd tried to match her questions, but she answered anything he asked with cheerful honesty. In truth, Sandor had disliked her answers. Some of them involved boys she'd been interested in at a younger age, and some mild jealousy had surfaced. She'd teased him about his envy and had even called it sweet. He was grateful, at least, that she avoided questions about his scars and his family. In turn, he'd avoided asking about her affliction. It only seemed fair. 

"My turn, now," Kalira purred in a suspiciously playful tone.

Sandor's eyes raked over her, waiting for her question. She was closer to him than she had been when they first started the game, sitting less than a foot away now. Sandor had shed his tunic, feeling warm from the drinking.

"Have you ever...cared for a woman? Before me?"

He shifted uncomfortably, weighing her words. "Cared for? Cared for, how?"

Kalira sighed, pursing her lips as she tried to phrase it differently. "Cared for, like... Like desire in a different way. Not just a bodily desire, more than that. Deeper than that." 

Sandor bit at the pad of his thumb nervously as he thought of Sansa, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He considered drinking, rather than tell her about it. But he'd drank so much already that he was feeling fearless at this point towards her questions. "Aye, I did. When I was serving Joffrey, that little bastard... Her name was Sansa."

She raised an eyebrow at him, wanting him to continue. "And...?"

"And, what? What of it?"

Kalira sighed and shifted so that she was laying on the bed now, propped up on her elbow like him. "Oh, I don't know. You can't just tell me her name, now I want to know more. Why did you care for her?"

Sandor paused to drain the rest of his horn, even though it wasn't his turn to drink. He needed the liquid courage to bring himself to speak about Sansa Stark. He finished his wine and tossed the cup onto the bed. "Her father, Ned Stark, brought her to the capital. A real beauty she was, everyone noticed it. Red hair and blue eyes, she was all the guards could talk about for weeks. There wasn't a man in the red keep who didn't think about her at night. She was meant to marry that cunt Joffrey. She even wanted to, 'til he snipped her daddy's neck. He started beating her then, after that. Treated her like fuckin' dirt every chance he got. I saved her once or twice, despite the fact she couldn't stand the sight of me. I still liked looking at her. Hells, I even went to her before I left King's Landing. Asked her to come with me, told her I'd take her to her back to Winterfell. She didn't want to go, so I left her there. I regretted it for a good while."

Sandor trailed off, feeling shame at his words. He'd left out how young she'd been, he knew Kalira would judge him for it. He looked at her now, gauging her reaction. 

She looked stoic, but the corner of her mouth was tugging down slightly. "I think perhaps I shouldn't have asked," she whispered in a soft voice, looking sad, "maybe it's me who's jealous now."

He held his breath now, guilt washing over him. He hadn't meant to make her feel that, and he cursed himself again. 

_Fucking fool, telling her how badly you wanted another woman--a girl, even._

"You shouldn't be," he rasped quietly, reaching his fingers out to brush against her knuckles. They were white where she was gripping her horn of wine tightly. _Too _tightly. "it isn't the same, Kalira. Not even close. It's...different with you."

"Different how?"

Sandor dropped his gaze away from her, feeling exposed. He'd never spoken so openly in his entire life as he had in the last hour with her, so what did it matter at this point? "It's more, now. If I... _cared _for her, then what we--what I feel with you..." he sucked in a sharp breath, speaking through clenched teeth, "it's more. I don't know how else to explain it, I'm fucking awful at this." He growled, heat prickling at his cheeks.

"Love?" she whispered in a voice so faint that he wasn't even sure he'd heard it.

Sandor stilled and his mouth ran dry.

He wasn't even sure he knew the meaning of the word. He only knew that he'd never spoken it to another person before. He tried to imagine what it meant, what _loving_ her would mean. 

Thoughts of her flashed through his mind. The day he'd first spoken to her outside her brother's door, the way she'd taunted him at the falls, how she'd kissed him in her room...The first time they had touched each other in his quarters. 

Sandor swallowed hard, and he felt his fingers shaking as he tried to calm himself. 

Kalira's hand gently moved to cover his, stilling his quaking fingers. She reached out with her other hand to cup his cheek, lifting his face towards hers. She was staring at him, her pretty face all flushed from drinking. Her full lips were stained from the wine, and they were parted slightly as she bore her green eyes into his. "Do you love me, Sandor?"

Her words cut into him like a hot knife, and he jerked his face away from her suddenly. Anger coursed through him as he pushed himself off of the bed and moved to stand. He swayed slightly from drinking, and he glared at her where she laid on the bed. 

"Fuck," he snarled as he searched the floor for his discarded tunic, "I knew this was a bad idea. Never should have let you talk me into playing this stupid game. Everything you do is a fucking game, always trying to get into my head."

Kalira slid off the bed, moving towards him with a concerned look on her face.

"Sandor, I didn't mean to--" she started.

"Well you did, now fuck off," he growled, turning away from her to leave without his tunic. His face burned with embarrassment, and he felt more exposed than he ever had in his entire life. As his hand closed around her doorknob, he heard her soft voice speak one more time.

_"I love you."_

Sandor froze, his hand clenching the doorknob tightly as he took in her words. Every muscle in his body was tense as he stood there, shocked. Sweat began to trickle down his forehead, and he heard shifting sounds behind him. Slowly he turned his head to look at her. 

She was closer than she had been before now, staring up at him from only a foot or so away. Her emerald eyes were warm, but he saw fear there. Her lips were trembling slightly as her gaze raked over him, and her hands were poised in a way that looked as if she meant to touch him. 

"What did you say?" he choked out in a razing voice, his throat having run dry. 

Kalira reached out to gently pull his hand from the door, and Sandor let her out of pure shock. She stroked his palm in her hands gently as she stared at him, whetting her pink lips with her tongue as she spoke. "I said...I _love _you."

His entire world collapsed around him as her words rang in his ear. He tasted metal in his mouth, and his vision blurred.

_Love? In what life could a Lady possibly love a tortured old dog? It's not true, it couldn't be..._

Sandor heard his breathing thundering in his ears, loud ragged pants as his knees nearly gave out. He threw a hand out against the wall to catch himself, fingers digging into the wooden panels of the ship. 

"You don't mean it," he rasped, staring at the floor as he spoke, "you _can't._" 

"I do," She whispered, releasing his hand to touch his chest at the neck of his shirt, fingers brushing at the hair that grew there. Her touch burned him, straight to his soul. "I know I do. I've never known anything as much as I know that I love you, Sandor Clegane. And I don't care if you believe me. I don't even care if the next words out of your mouth are that I'm a stupid girl, or that you think I'm lying. Even _you_ can't take this from me, the things that I feel..." Her words became distorted, and he realized a few passionate tears had slipped down her cheek. He felt her hand clench around the collar of his shirt, squeezing it tightly. 

Sandor felt himself lose all control and in one swift motion he slid his arms around her and lifted her into the air. He pinned her body against him and he bent to press his mouth to hers. His tongue swept between her lips in deep claiming motions as he kissed her. Kalira moaned faintly, wrapping her legs around his waist as she flicked her tongue against his. Sandor bit out a groan in response as he took two long strides across the room back to her bed to lay her there without breaking the kiss. He knelt over her and brushed his fingers through the long chestnut colored locks of her hair. Sandor felt her teeth rake over his lower lip. He reluctantly broke the kiss, and dragged his mouth down to to her jaw where he began to kiss her, sucking and biting at her skin.

Kalira cried out in a soft whimper, her fingers reaching up to dig into his hair as he ravaged her neck. 

"Say it again," he growled as he brushed his lips against the lobe of her ear. He moved his free hand to roam over her body, feeling the curve of her breast in his palm. 

"I love you--Oh, gods, Sandor..." Kalira whimpered faintly as his thumb grazed over her nipple through her dress. He squeezed her firmly there, liking the way her breath hitched as he touched her. It was different this time, he felt as if he couldn't control himself. Fueled by her words, he moved his hand from her breast towards the apex of her thighs. He pressed the flat of his palm against the fabric covering her cunt, feeling the heat there. 

"I want you," he breathed against her neck, his fingers of his other hand still tangled in her hair, "I _need_ you. Fuck that old Pentoshi bastard, I'll kill any man who ever lays a hand on you. You're _mine_, Kalira," Sandor groaned softly as he felt her buck her hips slightly at his touch, pressing the warmth of her sex against his palm. 

"I'm yours, Sandor...always," she said gingerly, and Sandor exhaled sharply at her words, loving the way she said his name. 

_Has anything ever sounded so sweet? _He wondered as he pulled back from her to take in the sight of her. Her lips were reddened from their passionate kisses, and her hair was a swirling beautiful mess that framed her face. She was staring up at him with the most tender expression he'd ever seen, and she reached up to touch his cheek as he stared at her. He watched as her lips parted and she spoke.

"Make love to me."

And though he knew he shouldn't, knew it would endanger them both and make their lives hell...he found himself reaching for the ties of her dress. His fingers tugged sharply at the fabric, and the front of her dress fell open to reveal her slip underneath. 

Kalira sat up slightly, leaning back so that she could shrug the dress off of her shoulders. Sandor cursed softly at the sight of her nipples, barely visible through the slip. He brought his hands to the hem of the underskirts, dragging it up above her knees and to her waist. His breath caught as her smallclothes came into view. There was a damp spot where the fabric covered her sex, and he could see the faint outline of her slit where the wetness clung to it. 

"That's fucking beautiful, that is," he murmured lowly, and he released her skirts from his palm as he moved to touch her there. With trembling fingers he brushed his thumb lightly against the damp crevice, stroking her through her clothes. 

Kalira lifted her hips in response, a lust filled moan escaping her at his touch. Sandor watched in amazement as she moved her hand down towards her waist, and began untying her smallclothes. After a moment, she pushed the last bit of fabric down to reveal herself to him as she parted her thighs slowly.

He'd seen her before of course, in the dim light of his quarters weeks ago when she'd been on top of him. This was different, though, and much closer. Sandor heard his breath hitch as he took in the sight. 

She was lovely there. The folds of her cunt were soft pink and gleaming with moisture, framed by brown neatly trimmed curls. 

Sandor cursed quietly as he lowered himself between her legs, so that her aching sex was just inches from his face. He gently brushed his forefinger and thumb against the flushed lips, spreading them ever so slightly. 

"_Fuck," _ he hissed, swallowing hard as he tried to imagine how he would ever manage to fit himself in such a small opening. He felt Kalira shift anxiously beneath his touch, and he pulled back suddenly.

Sandor began questioning if he could go through with it, how could he take this from her when she deserved so much better--

His thoughts halted at the sight of Kalira pulling her slip over her head and tossing it onto the floor. He watched with longing as she leaned back onto her elbows, her full breasts exposed to him. 

"You're wearing far too many clothes," Kalira teased in a warm voice, her eyes filled with lust as she raked her gaze over him. 

A low growl formed in his throat at her in response and he moved off of the bed to stand as he stared at her, shucking his boots and shirt first. He brought his hands to his breeches, fumbling with the ties as he unlaced them and pushed them down his thighs to the floor. 

Kalira's eyes widened as she stared at his cock jutting out from his waist. 

Sandor took himself in his hand, enjoying the way her gaze followed his movements. He pumped himself languidly in his palm, spreading the moisture from the tip of his cock down the length of it slowly. He released himself, and carefully moved back onto the bed. Kalira parted her thighs wider for him to settle between her legs. He leaned over her now, the hot length of his cock pressed between them as he cupped her face in his hand. Sandor stroked her cheek tenderly, studying the slope of her nose and the curve of her lips.

"You're sure that you want this?" he rasped faintly, eyes searching hers, "there's no going back, Kalira."

"I want this," she whispered back without even a moments hesitation, and she leaned up to kiss him gently before murmuring, "Iwant _you._"

Sandor groaned against her mouth, reveling in her loving words. Leaning back slightly, he dragged a calloused palm down the swell of her breast and down the flat planes of her stomach. Staring down at her beneath him, he took himself in his hand once more and angled the head of his cock against her entrance. He felt the warmth of her sex against his tip, and he groaned softly at the sight of where their bodies joined. 

Kalira whimpered softly at the gentle prod of his member, and his gaze flickered back towards her face. She was flushed and beautiful and Sandor wondered for the first time in his life if the gods were real, that he should be so lucky to have her like this. 

Placing one hand at her waist, Sandor slowly pressed the head of his cock between her folds. He felt resistance, almost immediately, and as he pushed deeper he felt himself being gripped by the heat of her sex. A low groan passed his lips, and he wanted nothing more than to thrust deep into her and feel her slick warmth against his entire length. 

But Kalira was panting quietly with a tense expression on her face, looking pained. 

Sandor moved to lean back over her, bracing his arms on the bed around her face as he pressed his forehead to hers. He took her lower lip in his mouth softly and began sucking at it as he slowly eased more of his length into her. 

_Fucking hells, she feels so good. _He thought, sweat beading at his forehead.

Kalira cried out faintly in pain, and Sandor halted his movements.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked quietly, eyes searching hers.

"N-no," she whispered, her eyebrows knit together with intensity, "but can you do it more swiftly? It hurts..."

He felt a dull pang in his chest, hating that what felt so good for him was hurting her. He brushed his mouth over hers once more, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss as he thrust deep into her in one quick motion. He heard her cry out again against his mouth, and Sandor nearly spent as the warmth of her cunt wrapped around his shaft. His breath exploded in ragged gasps against her lips, and he kissed her desperately as he began to gently draw back out of her. He felt Kalira's fingernails digging into his back as he thrust into her. And then once more again. 

She began to moan faintly, but not with pain this time. Sandor watched in amazement as she arched her back, her breasts thrust into the air. Encouraged by her sweet noises, he pumped into her shallowly as he groaned her name in response. Sweat trickled between the hairs of his chest, and he felt himself losing control as he drove into her with more force than he meant to. 

She filled his senses. All he could feel, hear, and smell was Kalira. Wrapped around him so tightly and crying out his name. He felt her tightening around him, and he slipped a palm between them as he searched for her nub. The rough pad of his thumb brushed gently between her curls, and he began to rub it in circular motions as he thrust into her. 

Kalira gasped and her eyes shot open, her mouth bowed in surprise as she stared up at him. She moved one shaking hand from his back to touch his scarred cheek, dragging her fingertips slowly down his face and tracing his lips. Her nipples were scraping against his chest lightly with each bounce of her breasts, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

Sandor quickened his thrusts, pressing his touch firmly against her as he sought her release. Her eyelids fluttered shut suddenly as she let out an airy moan, stiffening against him. He felt the spasm of her inner walls around his cock, and a sudden flood of wetness. His muscles tensed when he felt himself nearing, and Sandor grit his teeth as he thrust deeply into her one last time. With his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut, he bit out her name in between ragged breaths as he spent inside of her. 

He collapsed on top of her, bracing most of his weight on his forearms on either side of her head. Sandor buried his face into her neck as he caught his breath, still deep inside of her. He pressed a firm kiss to her jawline as he laid there, and he felt the gentle touch of Kalira's fingertips in his hair. She lightly ran her nails along his hairline, kissing the top of his head softly before wrapping her arms around his back. 

Sandor knew he should have rolled off of her, laid by her and relaxed together. But he was jarred to his core by the experience, unable to even move. His entire world had been turned upside-down in an instant by the tiny, beautiful woman beneath him. So instead he brushed his mouth gently against her ear, his lips trembling as he found the words he never imagined himself saying. 

"I love you, Kalira."


	15. Chapter 15

**Kalira**

A dull throbbing sensation in her temples awoke her the next morning, and Kalira heard herself groan lightly. Her mouth seemed parched and she was vaguely aware of the soreness she felt between her thighs. A small smile crept across her lips as she recalled the events of the night before that had caused the ache. Kalira shifted slightly, intending to sit up--but she felt a weight on her chest holding her down. With one glance upwards, she realized that Sandor hadn't left during the night. 

His arm was slung across her breast, and his face was buried into the pillow next to her so that she couldn't see anything but a mess of brown hair and hints of mottled pink flesh in-between the strands. 

A sudden lump formed in her throat as a wave of undeniable guilt washed over her. She'd gotten what she wanted from him, of course, but she was already regretting how she went about things. Getting him drunk had been her intention, but professing her _love_ for him had come about when she saw his reaction to her question. When Kalira realized she had hit a nerve, she acted on it and spoke words she didn't fully mean. Sandor had been resistant when it came to being intimate with Kalira on the basis that she would have another man some day, but she knew that truly he wanted her. She just needed to give him enough reasons to break his own moral code.

_I care for him, surely,_ she thought with a heavy heart as she stared at his sleeping form, _but not quite that much yet. But perhaps a bit of deception will save me a lifetime of misery. _

She went on justifying it to herself for a while, pinned down by his weighty arm. And she was doing an adequate job of it, until she remembered what he had said to her after they'd done the deed.

_I love you, Kalira._

She cringed now, biting down on her lip hard. He'd been drinking of course, perchance he hadn't meant it? Kalira felt sudden remorse as she realized how sincere and raw his voice had been when he spoke those words. His hulking form had gone slack atop her, his breath was sweet with wine as he held her close and bared his soul to her. She'd nearly forgotten about it, having drank a bit herself. Their lovemaking had been clumsy and a bit painful for her, but the real pain was hitting her now because of her carelessness. 

Sandor shifted beside her, a low groan escaping his lips as he rolled onto his back. Kalira couldn't resist turning to look at him. He was bare chested still, the sheets tucked low around his waist revealing his muscled form. His dark brown eyes were a bit bloodshot and already peering at her curiously. 

"Good morning," Kalira whispered airily, mustering up a smile for him, "did you sleep well?"

He didn't react at first, but after a few long moments he curled an arm behind her and gently pulled her against him beneath the sheets so that her head was resting on his chest. 

Kalira's cheeks burned as she felt her bare flesh against his, and it dawned on her that they hadn't redressed after their intimate acts. She obliged though, and slowly dragged a leg up across his waist in a way that left her nether area flush against his thigh.

It was odd, feeling her sex pressed up against him like this, but from the way his eyes darkened she was certain he enjoyed it. Kalira reached up to brush back stray strands of hair off of his face, but as she moved to do so he caught her palm in his. She watched as he brought her hand to his mouth and began brushing his lips over her knuckles slowly. Kalira sucked in a breath as mild lust coursed through her, and she let out a yelp of surprise when he bit her there in a playful manner.

"Ow," she giggled, pulling her hand out of his grasp and gently stroking his lower lip with her thumb. 

His eyes smoldered with desire and Kalira leaned in to replace her thumb with her lips, pressing a warm kiss to his mouth. 

Sandor rasped out a noise of pleasure, and she felt him slowly grasp her waist and drag her fully atop him. His tongue swept at the seam of her mouth, and Kalira parted her lips and deepened the kiss. His rough hands grasped her thighs and he shifted beneath her so that each of her legs were settled at his sides. 

Kalira gasped quietly, feeling his member cradled against her sex. Feeling brave, she broke the kiss and placed her palms firmly on his chest so that she could push herself to sit up. The sheets fell away from her and she was straddling him, completely bare. 

He let out a low growl as his narrowed eyes raked over her naked form, his hand tightening at her hip as he stroked her soft flesh. Slowly, though, he dragged his hand away from her waist and brushed his fingertips through the soft curls on her mound. He dipped his touch a bit lower, and Kalira's body jerked as he grazed her nub. 

"Can we...?" his voice razed, and she noticed he was already breathing heavily with lust. He swallowed hard before he continued. "Does it hurt?"

Kalira smiled faintly, her heart feeling warmed at his concern for her. Somehow, it made her feel worse for misleading him. She slipped her palm between his and her skin, and touched her core experimentally. 

"A bit sore," she murmured, sliding her hand away as she ground her hips down onto his stiff member, "but I think we can manage." She liked the way his breath hissed out as she did that.

Things were a bit different now, the light of day was streaming through her cabin and illuminating their intertwined bodies in a hazy orange glow. She watched as Sandor trailed his massive hands up her waist and towards her chest. He cupped her full breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing over her rosy tips. Kalira's pale flesh overflowed in his tanned grasp, it was a foreign yet delicious sight.

"You've got nice teats," he murmured in a thick voice as he plucked at her nipples.

Kalira moaned quietly, and Sandor bucked up against her roughly in response at her noise. She let out a whimper of protest as his hands fell away from her breasts, but Sandor didn't seem to notice. 

His gaze was fixed on her lower half now, and he shifted her so that he could free his cock from between them. Grasping her hip tightly with one hand, he took himself in his other hand and began dragging the tip against her damp seam. 

Kalira's eyes fluttered, threatening to shut in pleasure, but she forced herself to look down and watch. It was interesting to her, seeing him so clearly without the haze of wine and in real light rather than by the dimness of candles. 

His manhood was massive, more so than she remembered, and the head of it was swelled in a way that looked nearly painful. He murmured her name once, quietly, as he poised the tip at her core. 

She felt pressure at her hip as he gingerly bore down on her, sheathing himself within her with a bit of effort. Kalira bit out a soft gasp, surprised at how full she felt in this position. It was a bit tender still, but nothing unbearable. 

Sandor's gaze flickered up and his teeth dragged slowly over his lower lip as he ravaged her bare body with his eyes. He placed his free hand on her other hip, and began rhythmically lifting her up and down. He eased himself into her a few times, groaning lowly with each gentle thrust. 

Recognition dawned on her suddenly that this was for her to do, not him. Kalira leaned down slightly, cupping his ruined cheek in her hand and pulling his gaze up to her face sharply. She felt him still beneath her as he looked at her questioningly. Smiling at him in what she hoped was a seductive way, Kalira began to roll her hips atop him. It was clumsy, of course, she had no idea what she was doing beyond mimicking motions she had seen whores do in taverns. 

But Sandor's breath hissed in response, his hands tightening at her hips as he guided her. His face was full of tension, and her heart squeezed in her chest at the sight. His eyes grew hooded and he tilted his head back, letting out a throaty groan that made her quicken her pace slightly.

Kalira let out a quiet moan, mostly for his sake. It felt nice for her too of course, just not quite as good as when he touched her _there_. It was hard to describe for Kalira but she felt whole with him inside of her. She felt more at home in his arms than she had ever once felt at Raventree Hall in all her twenty eight years. She wondered if he felt the same. 

Sandor was somewhere else entirely, though. Where his face before showed a bit of strain, he was full on grimacing at this point with his eyes shut tight. His fingers dug so roughly into her hips that she felt a bit of pain, but she ground her hips down harder on to him in response. 

"_Fuck_," he rasped, his breath catching with every rock of her hips. His grasp became commanding on her now, and he was dragging her up and down his length roughly and frantically. 

She watched in fascination as his chest muscles stood out stark, his teeth were bared and sweat trickled down his forehead from the strain. 

He bit out a strew of cuss words as he erupted inside of her, even quicker than the night before. She felt the pulsating sensation within her and she stilled, not knowing what else to do. Sandor laid beneath her looking a bit of a sweaty mess, his chest heaving as he stared up at her with a mixture of awe and admiration.

Kalira smiled shyly at him, a bit pleased that she could unravel such a fearsome man. 

Sandor slid his hands up her sides and gently pulled her down on top of him, wrapping his enormous arms around her in a tender embrace. His lips found hers, and he kissed her sweetly as his calloused fingertips ran across her bare back in a soothing way. 

Eventually, Kalira detangled herself from his grasp and rolled onto the bed to next to him. She perched herself up on her elbow as she took him in.

He looked less happy than before, his eyebrows knit with concern and his mouth pressed into a hard line in a way that made the scars on his cheek stretch tightly.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, laying her free hand on his chest and stroking the fluffy hair that she was so fond of. 

His eyes darkened as his gaze trailed over her bare form, before they eventually settled on her eyes. With a grunting sigh, he parted his lips to speak.

"This is bad."

She winced, wounded.

"I-I'm sorry...I tried my best..." she whispered in a hurt voice as she let her hand slip away from his chest. 

He grabbed her hand suddenly, enclosing it in his enormous palm. He brought it back to his chest and held it tightly over his heart.

"Seven Hells Kalira, not that," he said tersely, leaning down to press his lips against her hand. "It's bad that we've done this...We shouldn't have." 

"You regret it?" she said softly, brushing her thumb against his palm. 

"No. _No. _I don't regret it, I could never regret it," he murmured lowly as he moved to hold her, protecting her from her own feelings. "But that doesn't change the fact we're on a ship to bloody Pentos. Doesn't change the fact you're not a maid any longer." 

He looked troubled, and she watched with interest has he raked his teeth over his lips in concentration. 

"Don't fret over it, Sandor. We've got several days until we reach Essos, we'll get through this together."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly, as if he liked the sound of that. 

Kalira glanced towards where the light streamed into her cabin. "I'll need to see Fayle, I haven't spoken to her in nearly two days now. She'll be worried." 

Sandor swept a strand of hair out of her face gingerly, before releasing her from his embrace. He sat up slowly, but Kalira was already slipping out of the bed and moving towards her washbasin to clean herself up. She then began searching for something to wear. His eyes followed her as she moved around the cabin, dressing swiftly. Eventually he moved to find his discarded clothes as well. When he was fully dressed, he stood by her cabin door and turned to look at her. 

Kalira smiled brightly at him, and leaned onto her toes to place a soft kiss onto his lips. She gasped when he caught her chin in his grasp and leaned down to deepen the kiss. 

When he pulled back, he was looking at her searchingly as if he was waiting for something. A lump formed in Kalira's throat, and she felt shame wash over her again. She hadn't spoken the words since the night before, and he was wondering if her words were real. She opened her lips, meaning to speak the words again--real or otherwise. 

But she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to lie to him again. 

_Sandor deserves better than false words, he's worth more than schemes and lies._

So she just offered him a feeble smile, and reached behind him to pull her cabin door open.

"I'll find you later?" 

His look was grave as he regarded her. "You'll find me later," his gravelly voice replied, turning slowly towards her door to leave her cabin. 

* * * * * *

"I don't think I care much for ships," Kalira said with a mouthful of bread and cheese, reaching up to swipe the crumbs from her lips. 

Fayle was sitting in Kalira's cabin and they were sharing a meal together--if, you could call it that. It was salted meat, dry bread, and some kind of cheese that tasted a bit off. 

Fayle giggled softly at Kalira, slicing off a hunk of cheese for herself. 

"It's not so bad, my Lady."

Kalira smirked, tilting her head slightly. "No, I suppose it's not so bad...Especially in my brother's cabin," she teased, watching as Fayle's eyes grew wide. 

"M-my Lady, I--"

"I'm only kidding, you don't need to explain. And, how many times do I have to ask for you to stop calling me _my lady?"_ Kalira grimaced at the words, hating how old it made her sound. "We're _friends_, Fayle. You're my only friend, really. I want us to speak as friends. Call me Kalira." 

Fayle smiled warmly, her eyes shining with admiration as she looked at Kalira. Fayle was quite a bit younger than Kalira, maybe ten years or so. Her hair was a deep auburn shade, and a smattering of freckles ran across the bridge of her sloping nose. 

"I want that too, m--" she paused, correcting herself, "_Kalira."_

Kalira grinned at her in response, reaching out to grab another roll. She tore off a crumbly hunk and stuffed it into her mouth, speaking in-between chews. 

"So, you and Silas. That's...interesting. Do you fancy him?"

Fayle blushed a deep crimson shade, but she couldn't keep her round face from breaking into a broad smile. "He's quite handsome," she half-whispered, and Kalira held back an eye-roll. 

She'd heard quite enough in her lifetime about how handsome Silas was, honestly. But she didn't want to hurt the young girl's feelings, so she just nodded in silent agreement. 

"What about--" Fayle started, and then she slammed her lips shut. She quickly grabbed a slice of the dried beef and began nibbling at it to occupy herself.

"What about _what?" _Kalira said quickly, curiosity getting the better of her. 

"Nothing, my Lady. I should not ask." 

"_Kalira," _she corrected her lightly, but urged her on, "ask me, please. You needn't be so careful with me. I may be of noble birth, but I'm not proper enough to be a Lady." 

Fayle hemmed a bit, but finally she finished her sentence. "What about the Hound? Do you...do you fancy him?"

Kalira stopped chewing suddenly. She considered, for a brief moment, that she might lie and act confused. But she found herself strangely eager to talk about him.

"I do."

Fayle's eyes widened again.

"Oh..."

"He's a bit brutish, I know. You must think I'm mad," she said with a soft smile, picking at her nails as she dropped her gaze. 

"I suppose he has a certain...appeal," Fayle said in a strangled tone, and Kalira held back a laugh.

"Yes he does. To me, anyways. I like his size, and I don't mind the scars. They tell a story of a man with a hard life."

Fayle looked thoughtful.

"He _is_ rather large..."

"He is, and in the best places." Kalira said as she reached for her goblet of wine, smiling into the mouth of the cup as she drank.

Fayle choked on her bread suddenly, her hand flying up to her mouth in shock.

"What?" Kalira said innocently.

"My _Lady!" _Fayle gasped in shock, sputtering as she tried to form words. "Y-you...He...You've been...intimate?"

_"Twice." _Kalira said in a lascivious tone, enjoying the way Fayle's jaw dropped at her admission. 

Fayle fell silent, and her expression grew concerned.

"But, my Lady...Magister Marcelis? Won't he be angry when he finds out that...that you're not..."

"Not a maid anymore? If I'm being truthful, Fayle...that was my intention. I have no desire to live out the rest of my life in Pentos letting an old man take me as he pleases. I would rather die than do that. This is just the less extreme solution."

Fayle wrung her hands nervously as she spoke, "So that's why, then? Why you were with the Hound? So that he would take your maidenhead?" Fayle cringed at her own words, as if she hated the sound.

It gave Kalira pause, and guilt washed over her again. 

"Well...no. I mean, yes in a way. But no. I really do fancy him, and I rather enjoy his company," she said easily, meaning it. 

Fayle smiled a bit at that. "He seems to enjoy your company as well, from what I can tell."

"He does," Kalira said flatly, remembering the expectant look on his face that morning when he was leaving her cabin. He'd been waiting to hear those three heavy words once more, and she hadn't had the nerve to lie to him again. "I'm not sure it's quite so equal. He needn't know that, though."

"What do you mean, my Lady?" 

Kalira ignored the urge to correct her again on calling her that. "I suppose I mean that he feels more for me than I feel for him."

"Oh," Fayle said, her brows knitting together, "...does _he_ know that, my Lady?" 

Kalira swallowed hard, feeling defensive at her handmaiden's queries.

"It's..it's not important," she whispered, cringing slightly as she thought of something to end the discomfort, "Fayle, what do you say we head to the upper deck and get some air?"

Fayle nodded curtly, seeming to accept that Kalira was done talking. 

They both rose, and Kalira crossed the room to her cabin door. Her hand turned around the knob, and when she pulled the door open she froze in shock at the sight.

Sandor stood there, inches from her door. His hands were balled into tight fists and his scars stood livid on his skin. His entire form was rigid with fury, but what startled her the most was his eyes. 

_His eyes._

His gaze was tortured, pained beyond belief. She could swear that she saw the shine of tears as well, but before she could look any closer he had turned on his heel back towards his own cabin.

"Sandor, wait I--"

The sound of his door slamming reverberated in the halls of the ship so loudly that she jumped.

A sick feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach as realization dawned on her, and she thought she might vomit. 

Sandor had been listening. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long guys, thank you for being patient. Hope you like it. <3

**Sandor**

Sandor trembled with rage as he paced his cabin, clenching his fists with the ache to grab something and hurl it at the wall. He found nothing, though, as his cabin was mostly bare with the exception of his saddlebag that lay slumped on his bed. With a resounding snarl he began to hurl his fists unrelentingly at the bag over and over again, feeling morbid relief as he bloodied his hands against the metal hardware and buckles that garnished it. By the time he slowed his assault, his knuckles were torn and weeping red. Sandor collapsed against the side of his bed, his knees giving out as he knelt onto the floor. Wetness blurred his vision and he was disgusted at the choked noise that came out of his throat. 

His thoughts whirled as he played the painful words she'd spoke over again in his mind, and Sandor ground his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn't shatter in his mouth. 

_I love you, Sandor Clegane._

And what a load of shite that had been.

* * * * * * *

The next few days left Sandor in agony. 

He'd avoided her completely, keeping himself confined to his cabin night and day. The only thing worse was that she hadn't even knocked on his door once. In truth, that was what he had expected. That she would come to him and weep her false tears, swear that she hadn't lied--but she hadn't even done that. Somehow, that made everything all the more excruciating. If Sandor was being truly honest with himself, it was what he wanted. At this point he would gladly take her mock apology and bring her into his bed, if only to bask in her glow for what little time they had left. The only thing more torturous than hearing her speak her guilty truths was being without her.

But Kalira never came. So, Sandor sulked in his quarters and drank the hours and days away as best he could.

Until one night, he heard tapping at his door. He had been sitting on his bed in his night shirt and trousers, thumbing through a book someone had abandoned in the desk drawer. It was some ludicrous tale of love that made him irrationally angry, but he read it with a hunger that he hadn't felt towards such a book before. A revolting glimmer of hope washed over him at the sound of thumping at his door, and he nearly leaped off the bed in his earnestness. Sandor paused for a moment with his hand around the doorknob, pasting an ugly scowl across his face as he opened it. 

Disappointment coursed through him when he took in the sight of Silas rather than Kalira.

"Clegane," Silas said in greeting, bracing his hand against the door frame. "I wondered if we might have a word." 

Sandor merely nodded in response, rather than the usual respectful utterance of _my Lord_. He pushed the door open a bit wider and backed away until he was seated at the edge of his bed. 

Silas stepped into the room and let his eyes wander around the small chambers, no doubt comparing them to his own. He settled in the chair at Sandor's desk, turning to face him.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Sandor raked his fingers through his beard in a bored manner. 

_If the little Lord wants to scold me for shagging his sister, let him speak first._

Finally, Silas spoke. "How are you finding the journey so far?"

Sandor snorted derisively, boldness overcoming him as he narrowed his eyes at the young man. 

"Why don't you say what you really came here to say, lad? Save us both some time."

Silas looked startled, either at his disrespect or his forwardness. Either way, Sandor cared not. The last few days had been a blur of agony and betrayal, there was nothing Silas could do to him that was worse than what his pretty sister had done.

"Alright then," Silas swallowed hard, his normally unperturbed aura falling away as he leaned forward in his seat, shifting his gaze towards the ground. "I feel you should speak to Kalira."

"Bugger off," Sandor hissed, uncaring. He crossed his arms across his chest, watching Silas' eyes narrow. "It'll be a good life if I never see that loony girl again," he lied smoothly, hoping it sounded convincing.

"Watch yourself. That's my sister--"

"Aye, that's your sister," Sandor interrupted, lurching forward to look him in the eyes, "and yet you're here talking to me instead of her. Explain that to me. Do you even know who she is? What she's really like?" 

Silas looked as if he was composing himself for a moment, and Sandor couldn't help but roll his eyes. _Let the little twat dismiss me, I'll join the Second Sons and--_

"She misses you," Silas blurted suddenly, raking his palm through his curly hair. He looked uncomfortable to be relaying the message, and he shifted in his seat as he avoided Sandor's gaze.

"_What?"_ Sandor spat, arching his good eyebrow. "Misses me? Misses me so much she sends you to tell me so?" He tried to force amusement into his voice, but he couldn't even muster it. His chest felt like it had been ripped wide open. 

"She didn't _ask_ me to come here, Clegane. Her handmaiden says she's been crying for days. I went to her myself, and she told me...told me everything."

Sandor stared incredulously at the boy as he processed his words. 

"...All of it?"

"All of it," Silas said with a sigh. 

Sandor cleared his throat, reaching up to scratch at his burns. It was his turn to feel awkward now, clearly. 

"You say you know everything, and yet you haven't had me thrown overboard."

Silas flashed him a grin as a quiet chuckle escaped him, and he seemed more at ease now than Sandor had abandoned his offensive position. 

"And what would that solve, exactly? We'd still be in the same situation that we're in now, less than two days from Pentos and my sister no longer a maid."

Sandor cringed, and he moved to stand so that he was leaning against the wall away from Silas, not wanting to look at him. "You don't...you don't sound angry," he rasped quietly, heat flushing his cheeks as he stared at the wood panels of the ships wall.

"Because I'm not," Silas said indifferently, and Sandor watched his boots come into view as he moved to stand near him. He clasped a hand on Sandor's shoulder, and he whipped around quickly to look at him. 

"I want you to stay with her," Silas murmured, his blue eyes boring into Sandor's brown ones as he frowned slightly. "Can I trust you with her, Clegane? Protect her for me, when I go. Make sure that old Pentoshi pervert doesn't hurt her."

_Protect her? Protect her, how? That slimy bastard will have his way with her every night..._

Sandor's knees felt weak, and blood thundered in his ears as he responded, "I can't stop him--"

Silas held a hand up quickly, halting Sandor's words as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"I know. I know you can't stop _that_..." he trailed off, shuddering, "...but you can help her be strong. Protect her from any pain she needn't endure, or at least any more than is necessary. Be her shield against unkind words, or those who might abuse her."

He could think of nothing worse. Watching her be dragged into the bed of an old man every night, hearing her inevitably cry as she mourned her old life...All while being unable to change a damn thing about any of it. Sandor wanted to say no, and every part of him resisted the idea.

But then he thought of her being left in Pentos, alone, with only her simple handmaiden there to comfort her. His gut churned at the the image, and he felt his resolve weaken. Regardless of how carelessly she had used him, he felt compelled to protect her still. 

"I'll make sure you're paid well," Silas went on, interrupting his thoughts. 

"That isn't the issue," Sandor snapped in an exasperated voice, his fingers digging into the wood of the ships walls. "She isn't a fucking maid anymore, how in Seven Hells are you going to deal with that?"

"I...I don't know," Silas sighed, looking tired, "but all I can do is hope that it isn't realized. I don't know what they'd do to her if they found her to be impure."

Sandor nearly crumbled at the thought, and a long silence fell over them once more as the two stared at one another. He took in the sight of Silas for a moment, studying him.

He wasn't much of a man, yet. He was plenty old, but Sandor knew him well enough by now to know the boy was still naive. He liked his drinking, and he especially liked his fucking, but he cared for his sister in a way that was rare in noble families. And that, that was something Sandor couldn't help but admire. He wanted to see her safe, so much so that he would sit idly by as Sandor insulted him and speak about their indecent actions. Silas looked drained, as if this all had tasked him to the point of exhaustion. But for Kalira, all of the horror had yet to begin.

_The girl needs all the help she can get,_ he thought silently.

"I'll do it," Sandor whispered in a razing voice, "I'll stay with her. You have my word."

* * * * * *

Silas had left hours ago, satisfied with Sandor's promise. He'd even gone so far as to tell Sandor that he was a 'good man'. 

Sandor had nearly snorted with amusement at that, but he kept his composure until the lad had departed. And then, the weight of his decision had hit him. 

He tried to drink the thoughts away, but even the strong taste of wine couldn't clear his mind tonight. There was only one thing that could stave away the darkness that plagued him.

Or one person, rather.

He found himself outside of Kalira's door not too much later, barefoot and in his trousers and sleep shirt. His hands trembled as he gathered the courage to knock. Based on the murmur of voices, he was certain her handmaiden was with her. Sandor nearly lost his resolve at that fact. The last time he'd stood outside the door while the two of them were in there, it had nearly broke him. With every bit of strength he could muster, he pounded his fist in three even thumps against the wood.

The voices inside quieted, and moments later he was greeted by the tiny stature of her handmaiden. Her red hair was done up all nice like, but her round face was wary. Her freckled nose scrunched up, and she opened her mouth to speak.

But Sandor didn't hear whatever she said, and his mouth ran dry as he caught sight of the woman behind her. 

Kalira had risen from her chair to see who was at the door. Her green eyes were rimmed red, her plump lips even more swollen than usual.

_She really has been crying._

"Off with you," Sandor said suddenly, jerking his head dismissively at the ginger girl standing before him.

She looked at him in shock, perking a dainty eyebrow up. "Excuse me sir, but I--"

Sandor backed her into the room, placing a firm hand on to the door to hold it open as he ducked beneath the archway. 

"Get. The fuck. Out. _Now_," he snarled through clenched teeth, narrowing his eyes at her.

The girl scurried in fear, darting underneath his outstretched arm into the hallway, not even shooting a glance behind her to see if Kalira approved of her leaving. 

Sandor turned his gaze back onto Kalira, and his hand slipped from the door in shock. 

She was standing much closer to him than she had been moments ago, her head tilted back as she stared up at him. She looked displeased.

"You shouldn't speak to her that way," she whispered, eyes trailing over his face. "Silas won't like it."

Sandor clenched his jaw, swallowing to try and rid the lump from his throat. He didn't speak, or couldn't, rather. There weren't words for situations like this. He wasn't even sure why he'd come.

"Sandor," Kalira breathed softly, reaching out to touch the side of his arm. "We should talk."

"Then talk," he rasped angrily, jerking his arm away from her despite the fact he wanted nothing more than to hold her in this moment. 

She looked hurt at his rejection, and took a few steps back. 

"If you don't want to speak to me, then why did you come?" she asked in a hard voice, her own expression growing tense. 

He thought for a moment, before shrugging his massive shoulders in a feign of indifference. 

"To see what this is."

"What _what_ is?" she murmured, eyebrows raised.

_"This,"_ he said sternly, waving a thick finger between the both of them. "I don't give a fuck if you're using me, Kalira. I just want to know if that's all it is."

She looked stunned, and Sandor suspected he'd caught her off guard.

_Lie to me, pretty girl. Go on and lie again. _

But to Sandor's surprise, she couldn't even manage that much. 

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," she huffed, turning away from him to move back towards her chair. 

Sandor crossed the room in two strides, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against him in one fell swoop. Her rear bumped against his groin, and his large hands splayed across her stomach from behind. He heard her gasp loudly, and he curled his arms tighter around her at that. Sandor dragged one hand up her chest, running it across her breasts in an exaggerated way, until his fingers were perched beneath her chin. He tilted her head back, until she was staring straight up at him, albeit from a strange angle.

"I don't need your pretty words to know the truth. I should have known a noble girl would never lie with an ugly dog if there wasn't something in it for her. But none of that matters now. Let me tell you my truth," he growled quietly, squeezing her waist in his grasp, "I need you. I need _this_." He ground himself against her rear, his cock already stiff with need. 

Kalira shuddered, a soft noise of pleasure escaping her lips. Her beautiful face relaxed for a moment, but then her eyebrows furrowed as she pushed away from him.

"Sandor, wait," she panted quietly, turning to face him. "We _must_ talk about what happened."

He stepped closer to her once more, leaning down until his lips were inches from hers.

"I don't want to talk. And you don't need to lie anymore, Kalira."

"I'm not--"

He brushed his lips against hers, silencing her words. 

_"I want to fuck you,_" he panted against her lips, need surging through him. He snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. "It doesn't need to be more than that. We both know what this is. We can use each other." He took her lip into his mouth and suckled on it lightly, emphasizing his words.

Kalira practically melted against him, giving up her feeble attempts to rebuke his words. She parted her lips, and her tongue flicked out to graze the seam of his mouth as he kissed her. Her deft fingers trailed against his cock through his trousers, and she set to work untying them with a sense of urgency. 

He groaned against her mouth, his cock jerking in response when he finally felt her bare hands against his flesh. Sandor broke the kiss to pull his loose shirt over his head, flinging it to the ground. 

"Take off your clothes," he growled softly, taking himself in his hand and stroking slowly as he stared at her through narrow eyes.

Kalira looked shocked, but a blush crept onto her cheeks and she was smiling ever so slightly as her hands flitted to her waist to untie the side of her dress. She let it fall from her shoulders gracefully, and her smallclothes followed soon after. 

"Fucking beautiful," he grunted in a lust-filled voice, his eyes trailing over her bare form. "Get on the bed."

If Kalira was off-put by his sensual commands, she didn't show it. He stared at the curve of her ass when she turned towards the bed, and he followed her there. Kneeling onto the bed, his gazed raked over her hungrily. 

She was on her back, her soft brown hair splayed out across the pillows. The rosy tips of her breasts were peaked and firm, Sandor found it made his mouth water. Her creamy thighs were parted wide, as if she were beckoning him to settle there. Her cunt was pink and gleaming, framed by neatly trimmed brown hair. The sight nearly made him spend. 

Kalira reached for him, then. Her arms outstretched in a welcoming, eager way. She looked aroused, but confused at his hesitation.

_No. Not like this. Too good for an old dog like me._

"Turn around," he murmured quietly. "Get on your knees."

He half expected her to protest, or even tell him to fuck off at this point. But she merely bit her lip, and carefully rolled over until she was on her hands and knees. 

Sandor groaned unexpectedly, his hand quickly wrapping around his cock as he stroked himself.

She looked entirely different from this view, and he had meant for it to be less intimate this way...But somehow, it was more-so. Her big round arse was curved beautifully before him, her back arched downward in a way that made it all the more appealing to him. He could even see her cunt, and her light pink folds peeking out. 

"Sandor?" she whimpered quietly, wiggling impatiently as she tried in vain to look behind herself to see him.

"I'm here," he rasped, shuffling closer to her on the bed until he was positioned behind her. He splayed his palm across one of her cheeks, marveling at how large his palm looked against her. He squeezed her there firmly, and she squeaked in response. 

Taking himself in his hand once more, he poised the tip of his cock at her entrance and began to drag himself up and down her seam experimentally. 

"Seven fucking Hells, you're wet," he growled in surprise, he hadn't expected her to _like_ this. 

"Please," she panted, squirming and pushing back against him to try and ease him inside of her.

She didn't have to ask twice, that was for fucking sure. Sandor re-positioned himself, and moved to place his hands on either side of her waist. Digging his fingers in, he sank into her in one firm thrust.

He felt deeper than he'd ever been in this position, her heat enveloped him from every angle and the view was even better. With a soft curse, he ran one hand down the slope of her bare back. Sandor began to thrust into her. Slowly at first, dragging her over his entire length and enjoying the way her moans changed when he withdrew and then drove into her. He quickened his pace, slamming himself into her faster and with more force. 

Her lush arse bounced with each thrust, and when he pushed deep into her he felt the wet warmth of her inner lips brush against his sack. Her moans grew a bit more frantic the faster he went, and he felt her inner walls clench against his shaft. He groaned with her, lost in the feeling. Somewhere in his lust-filled haze, it dawned on him that she was close. 

Sandor snaked a hand around to her front, not breaking his thrusts as he fumbled around searching. His fingers brushed against the soft hair of her sex, and she jerked back against him when he found her nub. He began to swirl his fingertips in soft circles there as he took her, feeling his own release nearing. 

Kalira gasped and panted his name, bucking her hips back against him. She cried out desperately, and he quickened his gentle touch until he felt her shuddering against him. Her heat spasmed around him wildly, and his breath exploded out of him in response.

_"Fuck,"_ Sandor yelled, her sudden tightness bringing forth his release. His cock pulsed fiercely inside of her, and his vision blurred as pleasure washed over him. His seed rushed into her, filling her sex to the point that it seeped out where their flesh joined. He dug his fingers into her hips tighter, eyes squeezed shut as her tensing walls milked the last bit out of him. 

His hands fell away from her hips, and she went slack against the bed with a sigh of relief. Sandor stared down at her in a daze, noticing that his fingertips had left little red marks where he'd gripped her arse. Where he should have felt warm in the afterglow, instead sudden shame came over him and he cursed himself inwardly. 

_Stupid fucking dog. First chance you got, you ran back to her and begged for her minge. As if it weren't bad enough already._

After kneeling there for a few moments, scolding himself, Sandor eventually rose off the bed. His legs were a bit weak as he found his way to her washbasin. He cleaned himself with a scrap of linen, turning back towards her to see if she needed it as well.

But Kalira had rolled onto her side and was already fast asleep without a single word. Her pouty lips were parted with sleep, and her cheeks were rosy pink. She looked spent, and peaceful.

Sandor redressed quietly, his eyes fixed on her all the while. Afterwards, he sat in her desk chair and watched her for what felt like hours as he played his thoughts over in his mind, worrying about what her future held. He selfishly wondered about them, and what this all meant. It confused Sandor deeply. 

He'd meant for this to be cold and unfeeling. He hadn't spoken any claiming words or loving things, but Kalira had been just as pleased--perhaps, even more so. 

Even with the fact he'd had too much to drink that first night, it had all been real for him. Her endearing words had lit a fire within him he hadn't known before, and he'd meant every word he spoke that night even if she had not. 

He loved her, all of her. Her quirky habits, the way she blushed when they kissed, the slope of her nose and the tender sound of her voice. But if this was all they could have together, he would take it. He was starved for her after so many days apart, and he wanted nothing more right now than to crawl into her bed next to her and wrap her in his arms. But somehow he knew that even if he did, it would leave him feeling hollow.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sandor rose from the chair. Casting one long glance back at her sleeping form, he slipped out of her cabin and into the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, it's currently 10/30, about 5-6 days since I last updated. Normally I would have finished the update by now but with the holiday and the fact I have two midterms right now I'm a bit preoccupied. Next chapter is half finished right now but I'm going to be busy for the next 2-3 days still. 
> 
> Next chapter should be up on sunday or monday. Thanks for being patien. 
> 
> ***Update #2 Nov 2nd 2019***
> 
> Hello guys. Unfortunately Its going to be another 5-7 days before I even touch the story again. My significant others father passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on Thursday and he needs a lot of support right now. Funeral procession and wake are taking place over 3+ days starting Monday so the earliest I could even begin writing again would be Thursday. But my boyfriend's mental health is top priority right now and I don't want to abandon him for the sake of a fanfiction. I hope you all can understand and that you'll still be with me when I pick this back up again later next week.


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